Four Steps Ahead
by IrisGirl1402
Summary: Anastasia was trained as a deadly assassin by an anti-magic organization called The Caste. They scope out the real magicians and destroy them, maybe kill them. But she escapes and runs away when she learns that she is in fact, magic. She tries to lay low, but what will happen when The Eye finds her this time and gives her a mission? JackxOC, a little DanielxOC (eventual Danley).
1. Prologue

**Well, hello there, everybody! I don't really have much to say about this FanFic yet, other than you probably shouldn't read this unless you've seen the movie... you might get confuzzled! But if you ignore this and go ahead and read it without seeing the movie first, don't blame me if you get confused... But you should still go and see the movie, whether you read this before or after. OK, I'll shut up now.**

**After I remind you this: the prologue starts, like, five years before the movie does, then the rest of the story takes place a few months after the movie ends.**

**And ****_now_**** I shall shut up. And let you read... so yeah... :D**

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**Prologue**

**Anastasia's POV**

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They gave me an "A" name because I was the youngest they had ever recruited. They told me the story of my young, innocent childhood (that I did not remember, I might add) as if it was a fairy tale from a child's book. I think some of my bored caretakers even took delight in making a picture book of it for me once. I think I burned it with a lighter that night.

They told me the story of how my parents couldn't keep me anymore—how they were assassins, just like I was trained to be. They told me that they had left me, a small bundle only four weeks old, wrapped in a white blanket, on the doorstep of Mr. Black, the founder of The Caste. They told me that Mr. Black had taken me to his house maid, Delilah, and she had taken care of me until I was aged five years—old enough to train.

They told me my name was Anastasia, and I believed them for only one reason. A locket. A gold locket, in the shape of a heart. It had been around my neck when I was left at that doorstep, and it had stayed there every day after that.

_Everyone has a secret, Anastasia. We will always love you._

I lived by the first sentence, and never let the last leave my head. I kept it there every moment, knowing that somewhere out there, were two people who had given me up to protect me (however well _that_ worked out) and that they would always love me.

I kept this in mind when I was ten and they beat me after I had messed up in a training session. I kept this in mind when I was twelve and they assigned me to a Unit. I kept this in mind when I was fourteen and they gave me my first assassin's mission. I kept this in mind every mission after that, successful or not. I kept this in mind when I turned sixteen and I learned that I had a gift.

I could still remember the day clearly. On my sixteenth birthday, my Unit leader had given me a lengthy vacation—three days off. Of course I still had to stay in the city, but I was OK with that as long as I had a little break.

Delilah drove me to my favorite clothing store, handing me a gift card.

"Here's my present to you, Staci. Now, spend it well." I flipped it over seeing the amount—one-hundred dollars! I reached over and hugged her.

"Thank you, Delilah! Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, kiddo. Here, take a little extra cash, so you can wander around the city a bit. It's New York City—you can always find something to do! Be sure to be back at the Dorm before it gets too dark tonight—your Unit is throwing you a party. So don't be too surprised when you find everyone in your room at nine o' clock this evening, kay?"

I hugged her one last time and jumped out of the car, waving after her as she drove off to go do who-knows-what.

I came out of the clothing store an hour later, holding two bags full of clothes, and another one supporting a variety of hats and scarves, some of which were too big but I had bought for when I was older (who knew when I would get a chance to come back here and get new stuff?). I had also gotten myself a new duffel bag from the man at the counter who was trying to sell it to anybody who passed by. It was the perfect size and in good shape, and I knew it would last me a long time.

I managed to make both my clothing bags fit into the large, black duffel bag, pulling out one of my new fedoras, placing it on my head and wrapping a scarf around my neck. I picked up the duffel which was actually surprisingly light and began to walk around, seemingly aimlessly to anybody who cared to actually see me, but I had a destination in mind.

I reached a gas station that looked old and run down to any pedestrians, but I knew this place was not what it may seem. I reached down to my belt loop and snapped off my ring of keys, placing one in the locked door and turning the knob, hearing a soft click. Light shone through the bulletproof glass of the windows, and I smirked at how easy it was to tell what kind of glass of it was by the way the light refracted and bent.

_Could you be any more obvious, guys?_ I thought.

Walking to the back, I reached a small rug in front of the Woman's bathroom and shoved it aside with my foot, revealing a trap door. I took the same key from my clip and turned the lock, lifting the door and dropping my bag inside, then following it down into the darkness.

I landed in a darkened hallway, but turning to my left I found the light switch and flicked it on. A string of lights lit the way, and I reached up and closed the door behind me. I picked up my bag and began to walk slowly, soon reaching another door.

A motion sensor went off, two video monitors swiveled towards me (I smiled at them), and a voice could be heard coming from a small radio box overhead.

"State your name, Unit and business," the man's voice commanded.

I recognized who it was immediately. "Hey, Jake. It's Anastasia from Unit 4—I need to drop off a bag in my dorm."

"Enter," he sighed. I'm sure he was bored and had been hoping for someone that was most defiantly _not_ me to walk through that door. I always teased him and flirted with him just to see him blush, which he did not appreciate. At all.

The door slid open and I winked at the cameras one last time before entering a very large space. It was built like the inside of a giant mansion—there was a kitchen, a living room, even a large dining room with the biggest table you had ever seen.

If you looked up, you would see the ceiling of the second floor and on the sides of the room, you would see hallways running down each of the four walls. It looked very much like a hotel on the second floor, because on one side of you when you walked down the hallways, you would see door after door after numbered door. These were the dorms.

Each hallway had a number 1-4, and on every hallway there were eighteen rooms. For instance, on Hallway 1, there would be rooms 101, 102, 103 and so on and so forth until you got to hallway 2, where the 200 rooms started.

H1 was for Unit 1 (the spies), H2 was Unit 2 (the undercover agents), H3 was Unit 3 (the scientists, doctors and planners), and H4 was Unit 4 (the assassins).

I hiked up the spiral staircase to H4, heading to my dorm room. It was a small room with a bed, a dresser, a full-length mirror and a bedside table with a lamp and an alarm clock/intercom, but it was what I had been calling home since I was five years old. I dropped off my bag on my bed, then headed back out a different way.

After crawling from a different trap door, I found myself underneath a road in a small, concrete tunnel covered in graffiti. Most of it was the symbols and faces of the people from The Caste. I crouched down so that I wouldn't hit my head on the low ceiling and darted out, back up onto the street. I checked to make sure the money Delilah had given me was still in the pocket of my leather jacket, then began to wander around the streets, grateful for not having to haul around the duffel.

I had wandered into Central Park when I saw him. He was fairly young, but still older than me. Maybe twenty or so? He had a small crowd gathered around him, and I went over to see what all the fuss was about.

His hands moved quickly, almost so quickly that I couldn't follow them. The cards seemed to be moving themselves as he shuffled them, splitting up and stacking back together again, flying out of the deck only to be snatched up by his long, swift fingers.

He turned to a woman in the front, fanning out the pack. "Pick a card... any card... not that card! Ha ha, just kidding... there you go..."

She picked up a card and showed it to the rest of us, but didn't appear to notice me at all. I had that ability—to stay near invisible. I saw the card anyways... it was the eight of spades.

"There, now put it back in the deck... good, right there..." he began shuffling it again, then tossed all the cards in the air. They fluttered to the ground around him, but I noticed that he was still holding one of them in between two fingers. "Now, ma'am, was this your card? He showed her the card, and indeed, it was the eight of spades.

Not that impressive.

He did several more card tricks, none of which really amazed me, but seemed to catch all the other people's attention. I had been standing here watching him for 45 minutes, and I didn't really know why. He finally announced that he was done for the day, putting his cards back in his back pocket and holding out a black hat. Everybody else placed a few dollars in the center, then began to float away until only I remained, and he held out the hat to me.

I looked him in the eyes and smirked. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the fifty or so dollars that Delilah had given me.

"Show me some real magic, and you can have this."

He looked at me in a really funny way, eying me up and down before he met my gaze.

"How old are you, kid?"

"Sixteen," I responded, telling no lies. I felt that if he was getting my money and would entertain me, then he might as well get the truth along with it.

"May I inquire your name?"

"No."

"No?"

"No," I clarified. He looked very confused, so I stepped closer, putting a little faith into this street magician. I pulled back my leather sleeve and turned my hand over so that he could see my lower arm. "You see this band?" He nodded. "It's permanent. I can't take it off without a combination, which I don't have. The chip here had several spikes all around the edges that have wires running through them and into my arm."

The magician looked up at me with a face full of pity, but mostly confusion. "What do the wires do?"

I smiled sadly. "If I say anything out of line, then it shocks me. Hard." His mouth fell open, then quickly closed again. He reached out a hand hesitantly towards the chip, and I nodded when he looked at me for confirmation. "Yeah, touch it all you want."

"Who could do this to somebody like you? Or anybody?"

"An agency of people that you should hope, pray and dream that you never meet. But if they want you, they will stop at nothing to find you."

He pulled his arm back after touching the band, stepping away from me a little. "How do you know them?"

I answered hesitantly and quietly. "I'm a part of them."

That really got his attention. "But... why?"

"Ah. Now there, magician, is the question. Why do I stay? I could yank this little sucker out—it would cause me a lot of pain and I'd probably loose use of my arm, but I'd be free. I could wander the streets, hitch-hike, do whatever. But I stay, and I don't know why." I sighed, more-or-less forgetting that I was still holding up my sleeve. I turned away and looked out at Central Park. "It's beautiful, you know? But if I left, I couldn't stay here, or ever come back here again. They would come after me—I'd be number one on the Red List."

The man was still staring at me with a mixture of confusion, wonder, pity and respect spread across his face. I turned back to him when he spoke softly. "You still want me to show you magic?"

"If you want to. I was just asking. I would give you the money anyways. I'm probably the nicest person from this damned society that anyone will ever meet."

He smiled, and reached into his pocket, but came back up not with his deck of cards, but a scarf. He made a fist and pushed it in between his thumb and the curl of his index finger until only the tail end was sticking out. He took a hold of it with his other two fingers, looking at me.

"Tell me your favorite animal, color, and (if you can) the first letter of your name."

"Yes, I can tell you all that. Animal, dolphin. Color, blue. First letter of my name... A."

He smiled and held the fist out to me. "On the count of three, blow on it, okay?" I nodded and smiled back at him—a true, genuine smile. "Alright. One... two... three!"

I closed my eyes and blew on his fist gently, and he did the same on the other side. I opened my eyes once more, and saw him spread his hand out, palm up. In place of the scarf was a necklace.

The chain was silver, attaching to the pendant on either end that spelled out one word—MAGIC—in a beautiful, sweeping cursive font. The letters were baby blue, and in front of the word was an image of a dolphin leaping from the water.

The magician handed it too me, and I laughed lightly. "What do you know? You really are magic."

He adapted a look of mock hurt. "Of course! Why else do you think I'm out here all the time, performing for small crowds, hoping that some day I can do better? Be bigger..."

"Those card tricks were awful, you know."

"I know. Here, let me put it on you."

I handed it back to him and turned around, pulling my loose, dark hair over my shoulder. He flipped the necklace in front of me, pulling it up and fastening it, his fingers lightly brushing the back of my neck as he did so, leaving goose bumps. That was so unlike me.

I faced him one more, looking down at the word and the animal, then back up at him. "Thank you..." I searched for a name.

"Daniel. Daniel Atlas," he informed me. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, A."

"Oh, please, the pleasure's all mine. Oh, I almost forgot..." I held up the small stack of money.

"Now, I could never accept that after hearing your story... you use it. Buy yourself an ice cream or something! You deserve it..."

I frowned. "No one's ever said that to me before. But a promise is a promise, so it's yours." I took his hand and opened his palm, tucking it in gently before closing his fist around it again. I held onto it for an extra second staring down at his closed hand, contemplating something. "I'll show you something, but you have to promise never to tell anyone (and I mean _anyone_) that I showed you this."

It was his turn to frown, but he nodded nonetheless. A smile glowed across my face. I finally had someone I could trust, even though I had just met him a few minutes ago.

I gripped his hand and pulled him over to a park bench, sitting him down and following, shifting so that we were facing each other and out knees were touching.

"Okay. I've only done this a few times, and I've never shown anybody, so I don't know how long I can hold it for."

He still looked confused, but I decided to go on with it anyway. It was my birthday, after all. I held out my hand, palm facing up, staring at it. I didn't need to close my eyes like I had to in the past—I felt that sensation tingling feeling in my arm, but it wasn't like the bracelet's shock. It was warm and fuzzy, like a cotton ball moving over your skin.

I concentrated hard, still staring at my hand, willing my thoughts to travel. And they did. My hand lit up like a projector, glowing softly around the edges. Daniel's mouth fell open again, but this time didn't close. He kept staring at my hand as the image began to sharpen. Soon it was a smooth, moving picture floated at my fingertips.

It was looking up from the street at an old church bell tower. I knew the bell was ringing, even though you couldn't hear the tolls. Two doves flitted into view, gliding around the bell tower on angel's wings and finally settling down on the pointed top when the bell stopped moving.

I looked up, grinning, at Daniel, who's mouth was still hanging open. He must have noticed me staring because he moved his gaze to search my face, looking for laughter or any sign that I was joking, that this wasn't real. He found none, because I really and truly had this gift.

"Do you have any idea how incredibly rare this gift is? Illusionism?"

"I call it Illustration, but yeah, I know that I'm special. I just don't like to show people... I never thought they would understand. But you still can't tell anyone. You promised."

He laughed, and his eyes positively sparkled. "I won't tell a sole. I just wish I knew who you were—"

He was cut off by me holding my open hand up a little higher so he could see it. Once I got the projection up onto my hand, it was easy to keep going or to change it to something else. Now instead of the bell tower, words began forming. The image widened and lengthened to make room for the sentence that I was pushing it to spell out.

_My name is Anastasia Rhodes. You can call me whatever you like—I usually prefer Staci._ I cleared the message once he nodded. _Or you can call me Maggie—it's my middle name. I know Daniel is yours, too._

He smirked. And I let the projection down, rubbing my tired hand and looking away from him.

"That's incredible, Maggie! I can call you that, right? Maggie?"

I nodded and smiled, still not facing him. "Yeah, that'll make you different from everyone else. Everybody always calls me Anastasia or Staci—and that's everyone in The..." I stopped and blushed, cursing myself for almost saying that name or anything associated with it. "...The organization." He nodded in understanding, taking his gaze away from me. I stood up, and he copied me. "Listen, I have to go. They'll wonder where I am, and I don't want anything to happen to you—they get _really_ protective of me when it comes to their poor, poor girl talking to strangers."

"But I'll see you again someday soon?" he asked hurriedly, looking a little lost.

I smiled at him. "Of course! I have these next two days off before I have to go back to doing... stuff. I can meet you then, if you want."

"Sure thing. How 'bout tomorrow, we meet right back here at this bench? Say... noon? I'll take you to lunch."

I laughed lightly and smiled up at him. "Sure thing, Daniel. Noon tomorrow, this bench. I'll see you then."

As I turned around to leave, he caught my arm and placed something in my hand. It was his deck of cards, put neatly back into their little box. "Take these. Practice with them—you'll be good at it soon. You should do more magic, Maggie. You'd be a promising magician."

I smiled and held the cards close to me. "Thanks, Daniel. I will. I'll see you tomorrow."

Of course, I didn't tell him that what the Caste really did was take out the real magicians in the world, one by one. Not the fake ones, but the ones who knew real magic.

Of course, when I walked to the bench in the middle of Central Park to meet him the next day, he wasn't there.

Of course, I sat there for a while, playing with those cards that he had given me. I picked up all the tricks of the trade very quickly.

Of course, after three hours of waiting and he didn't show up, I gave him one final act of my kindness. I left him a note, right there on that bench, because (of course) I knew that he was here at the park, close by, watching me, but was too afraid to show himself. Who knew why.

Of course I knew right where he was hiding, and when I left the note, I turned to his spot and smiled at him sadly, holding up the necklace. I winked at him, and I knew he saw me.

Of course, I turned and walked away.

_You taught me so much, and I'll never forget that. I thought about what you said—I'm leaving. I'm ripping off this band and I'm running away. I hope we meet again soon, J. Daniel Atlas. I'm sure that we will. I'll see you then._

_Maggie._

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**Yay! Did you like that? I thought it was a little rushed, but I didn't want to make this so long... 'cause I ****_totally_**** didn't to that ! ;D Anyway, read and review... or don't... I'll have the next chapter up soon! And if you didn't already know, this movie is amazing! I LOVE IT SO FREAKING MUCH!**

**xxIrisxx**


	2. Chapter 1: Way of the Street Magician

**Chapter 1: The Way of the Street Magician**

**(Anastasia's POV)**

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**Location: Delata, Florida, USA**

**City Population: 683**

**Current time: 1:30 pm, Eastern**

**Date: June 2, 2013 **

**Current alias: Maggie Ray, street magician**

Five years. For five years I had been hiding and I hadn't been found. For five years, I had been wandering around the country on foot or on any bike I found lying abandoned. I made money playing the piano in fancy hotels, taking song requests when people had them, and playing whatever I wanted when nobody gave me anything. When I needed a place to stay, I found some cheap motel in a random small town that wasn't even on the map, paying for the smallest room they had with the money I made at the hotel. I barley ate, and I only stayed somewhere at night when I felt the need to sleep—usually three times every six days or so.

Not that it was good for my health, but at least I was hidden. And, when I was in a small enough town and I felt that I was safe, that I wasn't being followed, I did magic. I went out to the middle of the town, set out a blanket, put my materials (most of them stolen) around the edges and began to perform.

Ever since I had gone AMALO (Anti-Magician and Assassins' League Outlaw), I had practiced magic whenever I was safe enough and alone. I had gone from those tiny projections in my hand to being able to make a person believe that they were in the middle of the Amazon Rainforest. I had practiced card tricks, ball tricks, cup tricks, water tricks… any kind of magic trick you can think of, I was sure to have tried it.

And no matter where I went, I always kept that little card pack that Daniel Atlas had given me, and I wore the necklace at all times. They were the only things that were of about the same importance to me as the locket.

I spread out my blanket one day on the side of a gravel street, next to the town's only grocery store, a Winn-Dixie. I was reminded of the book by Kate DiCamillo, giving me inspiration for an Illustration.

Picturing a young girl and a dog walking down the street through the pouring rain, I snapped my fingers and they appeared. This caught a few people's attention who were walking along a little ways away from me, because the image was slightly transparent, and it was only raining over them. I blew towards them, and the rain immediately changed into snow, the girl and the dog disappearing. More people had gathered around to watch, but only a few noticed that I was the one making it happen.

Continuing with the book theme, I cleared away the Illustrated snow (which was rapidly piling up on the ground in see-through heaps) and changed it to a small cottage in the woods, where a girl with black hair and a pale complexion wearing a dress leaned out the window, a bluebird landing on her outstretched finger. A few little kids ran up to the image to touch it, and they soon found themselves covered in falling leaves while butterflies flitted around them.

By now, everyone had figured out that I was making this all happen, and they were all looking between me and the image, which I stilled and faded, much to the children's disappointment. All the adults clapped while the kids ran up to me. I crouched down to one child's level when I felt a little hand tug on my sleeve.

"How are you today, my friend?" I asked warmly.

"That was amazing!" She bounced up and down, her long red hair flying all over the place as she clapped. "Are you magic?"

"Of course I am! Would you like to see something else?" She nodded in response, grinning from ear to ear with a smile on her face and sparkle in her eyes that only kids have. "Well, let's see. Can you tell me your name, little one?"

"I'm Clara! What's your name?"

"My name's Maggie. And what's your favorite color?"

"Mine's pink."

"That always was my favorite, too," I lied excitedly. Kids are so easy. She smiled even harder. "Well, Clara, I want you to take a look at my hand, and tell me what you see."

She took my (relatively) small hand in her tiny one, and looked it over on both sides. "It's empty."

"Good! Now, here. I'm going to close my hand, and on the count of three, I want you to blow on it as hard as you can. Can you do that?" She nodded again, just like I had done when I was sixteen years old. All the adults were looking on fondly, amazed at how a rugged street magician who looked like she hadn't eaten in weeks could be so kind and caring to a small child. "Okay, here we go. One… two… three!"

Clara sucked in a breath and blew and blew and blew on my fist until she had no more air left. "Did I do it right?" she asked, gasping.

"You did wonderfully! Now take my hand and open it up very slowly… that's it!" She did, but her expression only changed to a frown.

"It's still empty!"

"Huh, that's odd… I wonder where it could have gone… Wait, what's that up there?"

Floating up in the sky like a beacon was an enormous pink kite, dancing in a wind that was not blowing (more magic!) and printed on the top in great big white letters that glowed in the afternoon light, the kite read _CLARA_.

All the adults laughed and the children did the same, dancing around and clapping happily. They all began shouting at once as I handed Clara a kite string from up my sleeve.

"Do me! Do me!" They were all shouting and tugging on my clothes, clambering past one another and trying to climb up onto me.

I laughed and leaned down a little towards them, then looked up at the adults. I was sure I had at least a hundred of them surrounding me by now. It was so many people… but nothing I couldn't handle.

"Alright, I'll do each and every one of you. Right now, I want you all to start shouting out your names, but keep your eyes on the sky, alright? Wouldn't want to miss anything, right?"

"OKAY," they all shouted at once, then began screaming their names. I heard them up one or two at a time when I could make one out, making kites appear like stars in a clear winter sky. Every time a new one appeared, a child would yell "HEY, LOOK! THERE'S MY KITE!" And they would suddenly find themselves holding the string, watching the kite fly against the blue. The favorite colors were easy—everyone knows that all a little kid wants to wear is their favorite color on their shirt.

Now, with each child holding a string and every last head turned to the clouds, I picked up my hat, which had collected quite a bit of money, plopped it onto my head (of course making sure that all the change would be transported to my bag), picked up my blanket, folded it, and set it down in the duffel.

"Now. Gentlemen, ladies and children of all ages, I thank you for your time and charities. I hope that one day we will meet again soon. Until then, I ask only that you believe in me, and any other stranger that comes to this town. Have a lovely summer, everyone!"

With my free hand, I showered the ground with a blue smoke, creating a plume that cleared away within the next ten seconds. It took me eight of those seconds to scramble over to the pole I had been leaning against, shimmy up the thick structure and roll onto the roof of the Winn-Dixie, along with my bag. The smoke cleared and I heard "ooh"s and "aah"s and "where did she go?"s, but I didn't turn back, not even for a second as I padded softly along the rooftop, carrying my black bag at my side.

Then…

The voice seemed to be that of a ghost, it spoke so softly. But however soft it was, I heard him say it and I knew he meant it.

"You've done well, Anastasia, but you can do better. It's time we met face to face again, don't you think?"

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**Tee hee! I'm evil! Cliff hanger! I'll just say this: it's not what you think. I have the next chapter written already (I was on a roll yesterday) and I'll post it on Thursday (two days from now). I encourage you to R&R, but you don't have to, because Lord knows that I'd be a complete hypocrite to tell you to do something that I don't always do! ANYWAYS... I have piano practice now, so I have to go! Then I'm heading straight to Starbucks... :D**

**xxIrisxx**


	3. Chapter 2: Change

**Chapter 2: Change**

**(Anastasia's POV)**

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**Location: Winn-Dixie rooftop, Delata, Florida, USA**

**City Population: 683**

**Current time: 2:18 pm, Eastern**

**Date: June 2, 2013 **

**Current alias: Maggie Ray, street magician**

"You've done well, Anastasia, but you can do better. It's time we met face to face again, don't you think?"

I froze at his words. His voice was serene and I knew that he meant his compliment… if it could even be qualified as one. I dropped my bag and it landed with a light _thunk_. The knife in my leather sleeve found its way to my hand and I gripped the hilt tightly.

How dare he waltz into my life after all these years, calm and perfect, like nothing had happened? How dare he try to smooth over everything that he had done to me with that composed voice of his? How dare he?

I spun around on the heel of my worn boots and lunged at him, completely silent, like any trained assassin should be. I stroked the knife out in clean, swift movements, going for his eyes… his neck… stomach… anywhere. But whenever I found an open spot in his guard, it was quickly blocked by expertise much greater than mine. Before I knew what had happened, he had my wrist caught in his hand and was twisting it behind my back. I was flipped over and thrown to the ground with very little effort, while a knee went to the center of my back and pressed lightly on my spine, daring me to move.

I could just imagine his smug expression on his face that hadn't changed a bit from the last time I saw him—he still had the short blonde hair, was still tall, still muscular. Still the same asshole who had a strange (and very well-known) crush on the best assassin from his Unit—me. I copied his expression and loosened, surrendering. He wouldn't kill me yet—he never killed anyone he knew without at least having a conversation first.

"It's not my style," he had once told me.

He let me up and I turned around, calmly flipping the blade of my knife back into the slit in the handle. He stared down at me and I met his gaze with respect. I knew that if I wanted to live to see the sunrise tomorrow morning, I had better be pretty damn respectful.

He seemed to read my mind and smirked as he offered me a hand. I took it and he pulled me to my feet, not letting go of my slim fingers as he yanked me into his chest. I sucked in a breath, remembering

"You've done well, Anastasia, but you can do better. It's time we meet face to face, don't you think?"

"May I ask how you found me, Black?"

My old Unit Leader let his smirk fall back into that calm mask of his as he stared into my eyes. "You may, and I will answer. You were a hard little bugger to track, let me tell you. But this little old man, you see, owns a motel in the next town over. It's so sad, the way that people in poverty will do _anything_ for the slightest bit of money now-a-days." He laughed, pulling me even closer, then leaned around to whisper in my ear. "Bribed him to inquire about a certain young girl's whereabouts when she checked out of the motel. And you, my dear girl, told him all about… _magic_." He whispered the last part so softly that I could barely hear him even though he was so close.

"Wow, Black. You've fallen to your knees, and now you're forced to crawl around on them, bribing little old men to do the dirty work for you. I'm ashamed. I thought you would have done better. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a very long walk to the next nice hotel that has a grand piano. Enjoy your trip home, _monsieur_."

I stepped away from his grasp and he let me go, standing in that same spot as I went to pick up my duffel. I had just brushed the handle with my fingertips when he spoke up again, louder this time.

"I'm not with The Caste anymore, Staci. They retired me. Set me up with 10 K in my bank account and let me go. Said they weren't worried about me anymore, because who would believe me if I told them about the group of assassins, spies and undercover agents, taking all the magic out of the world, piece by piece until none is left—not a single drop?"

I stood back up straight but didn't turn to him. "Well, when you put it _that _way, it makes you sound crazy. That's why nobody would believe you—but wait. It's not because you _sound_ crazy, it's because you _are_ crazy, Black. You just can't see it. Anybody and everybody who's in The Caste is insane, and will be until their dying day when they see all the mistakes they made. But there's something that confuses me. If you left The Caste, then why are you still after me?"

I turned around at this point and found him still in the same spot, holding his arm out with the sleeve up so that I could see the tattoo.

"I joined The Eye."

I laughed, thinking the tattoo was a fake. "Oh, please, Black. That is the worst lie that anyone has ever told me, and I've heard a _lot_ of lies."

"Staci, that's where you're wrong. I'm magic. Always have been, just like you. I had to go through all these tests, all these tasks with blind obedience, but I did it. I completed it, and now I'm a part of it."

I could see that he wasn't lying. He was telling the truth, because no matter what people believed about Black, he was a terrible liar. That's why he was an assassin—he never had to lie to his victims when he was about to kill them. And for some reason, I trusted him, reaching out and touching the tattoo.

"You haven't told me why you're after me. And how did you find me before The Caste did?"

"Magic. I did really ask the old man at the motel, though. That was mandatory—too much magic around these parts and people begin to get suspicious. You're brother sent me."

I nearly fell backwards when he said that. Dylan? Dylan, whom I had only ever seen pictures of and gotten letters from when I was little? My big brother, Dylan Rhodes, had sent Black to find me? Why? _WHAT?!_

Black continued, seeing my confusion. "He didn't send for you specifically. He had orders from The Eye to get someone trained like you and with your skills, because they're going to take down The Caste. They need you to protect and train a group of magicians in self-defense."

"Let's go."

"What?"

I sighed. I barley even had to think it over. "Black, take me to wherever you need to take me to. I'll help you. I'll train these guys if you want me to. I want to help. If it means taking out The Caste once and for all, then I'm all for it, especially if it's for Dylan."

"Not for Dylan. For The Eye."

"Same thing. Now," I picked up my bag, and faced him again. "Let's go kick some magician ass."

* * *

**Yay! It's all falling into place now! Well, it really started falling into place in my brain after I had that Starbucks... mmm! Anyways, tell me what you think! You haven't really seen any characters you know yet... except for Daniel when he was younger.**

**But tell me, what that too rushed? This chapter, I mean. I felt like she was a little quick to accept the offer and to trust him, but I didn't want to make this too long. I guess this is going to be one of my longer stories... :D so be prepared!**


	4. Chapter 3: New Style of Living

**Hello again, guys! Thank you for all those people who have added me to their favorites and have left amazing reviews! Thank you all so, so much! I just want to make something clear about this chapter: Chapter 3 (this chapter) takes place a day ****_after_**** the previous chapter and the next one. SO in short, the next chapter takes place on the same day as Chapter 2, which is a day before this one.**

**I will also remind you of this in chapter four. I'm sorry if that's a little confusing, but I felt it necessary to do. And also, in case you hadn't noticed, I edited a few little mistakes I had made in the previous chapters, but none of the story is different, just spelling errors and things like that. **

**Well, here we are! Enjoy, everyone!**

* * *

**Chapter 3: New Style of Living**

**(Nobody's POV—3****rd****person)**

* * *

**Location: Embassy Suites hotel, New York City, New York, USA**

**City Population: 8.245 million**

**Current time: 12:30 pm, Eastern**

**Date: June 3, 2013 **

It had taken a lot of convincing on Dylan's part to get The Four Horsemen to lay low and not put on any more shows for a while. All four of them did magic for a living—how were they supposed to make money?

"Don't worry about money," he had said to them one evening in their hotel room in New York City, trying to convince them to come with him to the house. "The Eye will be paying for your house, but also any maintenance that it may need, your cars and the gas, and any clothing or grocery shopping that you might need to do." He looked pointedly at Henley. "But don't go overboard with the shopping." She put on a pouty face and everybody couldn't help but laugh. Even Daniel.

"So… how long exactly are we going to have to 'lay low'?" Merritt asked.

"About two months should be about how long it takes for the press to die down some, then you all can start on your next mission."

Nobody could really complain. Two months of The Eye paying for living accommodations and pretty much whatever else they needed? That was the best thing that had happened to the four of them all year! Well, besides the fame and the stage time, of course.

"What do you mean, 'our next mission'?" Jack asked in that little snoopy kid kind of way.

"Strictly confidential." He gave Henley a stare when she started to protest. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you. What I can tell you is that we've hired someone to train you guys in self-defense."

"We have magic—well, most of us do," Merritt began. "I'm not sure about Henley being able to stop someone—" Just as Daniel was about to warn him not to comment on Henley's skills (of course _he_ had, and it hadn't ended well) the subject at hand turned and slugged him right across the face. Very, very hard.

"How's that for self-defense?" she mocked, shaking her hand out a little as Merritt rubbed his jaw, rolling it around tenderly.

Dylan was the first to respond. "The person we hired will be able to teach you a lot more than just flinging cards at people and punching them in the jaw." He glared at Henley and Jack, the latter looking sheepish and apologetic.

"Who did you hire, Dylan?" Daniel asked.

He looked away a little bit, which was unusual for him. "I don't actually know. I was told to pass the orders on to another member, and he was told to go find someone to help you all. Whoever he hires should be at the house by now."

"Wait wait wait… you mean we already have a house? The Eye already bought us a house?" Jack inquired excitedly.

Dylan looked confused. "Yes. Didn't I already say that?" When nobody confirmed this, he continued. "I'm here to take you to the house now. I think you'll like it a lot. It's on the outskirts of a very small town in Florida where we're sure that nobody will be able to track you. And if they do, the town has lots of agents from The Eye staying there in case you need them. So come on, pack up your bags and let's get a move on. Chop-chop-chop! We don't have all day!"

* * *

**Location: Outside Embassy Suites hotel, New York City, New York, USA**

**City Population: 8.245 million**

**Current time: 1:15 pm, Eastern**

**Current date: June 3, 2013**

Dylan ushered the Horsemen into a black limo that was waiting outside the hotel. Their bags were loaded into the large trunk, Dylan climbed into the front with the driver, and all four of them sat in the back. Henley sat next to Danny on one side while Jack and Merritt sat on the other, though probably farther apart than was necessary.

"I wonder what the house will look like," Henley sighed, not realizing that she had spoken out loud until Merritt replied by putting his fingers to his temples, closing his eyes.

"Hmm… nope, don't have anything. Dylan knows how to block certain thoughts from me… It's really annoying!"

They all speculated on what the house would look like, but eventually they were all so tired and cramped up that they just fell asleep in the back of the very large limo. Well, everyone except for Danny, that is.

Henley awoke to the jerking of the car as it stopped, and found herself in a rather awkward position—her hand had found its way to Danny's shoulder and was gripping it tightly while her cheek laying on her knuckles, the top of her head resting in the crook of Danny's neck. She bolted upright and away from him, only to find him looking back at her and smirking. She scowled at him and looked at Jack and Merritt, confirming that the two of them were still asleep. She was not in the mood for teasing at the moment.

She tried to look out the window, but found that she couldn't see anything. Everything was black, and she couldn't even make out the outline of a house or a street lamp. There wasn't even any sunlight shining through.

"It's blocked by a screen, Henley." Danny answered her unspoken question. "We've been driving since one o'clock in the afternoon yesterday, and the drive was twenty hours long. It's… I don't know… seven this morning?"

She gave Danny an odd look. "So I haven't gotten out of this car in twenty hours?" she whispered (albeit loudly) so as not to wake her fellow Horsemen.

"No, we stopped for an hour and half somewhere at a rest stop in the Blue Ridge Mountains in Tennessee. Don't you remember?"

It all started to come back to her. She remembered getting to the Rest Stop around midnight… stopping inside and going to the bathroom… buying something from the vending machine… chasing Jack around the whole place when he stole her phone… yep, she certainly remembered it all.

She nodded briskly and clambered up the aisle, opening the car door, going around to Jack and Merritt's window. She pounded on it loudly with her fist and had to stifle her fit of giggles when she heard both of them scream and Danny bust out laughing, stepping out of the car as well, quickly followed by the other two.

"Henley, what the hell was that… whoa?!" Merritt quickly stopped when he turned around and saw the house. The other three copied him, turning to see what he was gaping at. It wasn't that hard to spot.

The house was enormous, probably the biggest house they had ever seen. The exterior was made of brick, most of it a light, rusty brown except for two small parts that jutted out from the rest—these two were gray. There was at least one window on every exterior wall in the front, and there was _a lot_ of wall space. The roof was black with a white trim on the shutters, around the windows, and along the edges of the roof. The porch was held up by two brick columns and shoved inward under an alcove towards a large double-door that had a pane of frosted glass on each side, the material covered in vine and tree designs.

Surrounding the house were decoration and plants. Palm trees grew in the four corners of the front yard, tall and slender, swaying in the light wind. Here and there, flowering plants and some types of native ferns (but nothing too outlandish) grew in patches in the front yard, also lining the driveway and the path that wound its way up to the porch.

All four Horsemen were speechless. They continued to stare at the house in awe, mouths agape, as the driver and Dylan stepped out of the car. The driver popped the trunk and began to unload luggage onto the street while Dylan went over to stand beside them, leaning against the limo.

"I told you you'd like it," he laughed, seeing their expressions.

"Dude, this is _awesome_!" Jack exclaimed, the first to speak. The others nodded in agreement, smiling as they snapped out of their daze.

"So this is what The Eye qualifies as 'laying low'? Because this does _not_ look like 'low' to me. The low end of upper class, maybe, but really..." Merritt trailed off.

Dylan gave him a look that none of them could quite name. "Upper class? Well, yeah, sure I guess for you guys... this is nothing for The Eye. They didn't want you getting too much attention with a great big house." The others scoffed. "Besides, this house is on the very outskirts of Crows Landing—ever heard of that town? No, of course you haven't because it's a town with a population of two-hundred and forty-eight as of this year, most of whom are part of The Eye. This used to be one of the eldest member's houses— recently had remodeling done, because it's a family estate. The house was first built out here in 1857, and it was passed from generation to generation for years, and each time it was, the house was re-done in order to fit the owner's needs. And now it's yours." They all turned away from the house and stared at him, and when he finally noticed, he stared back. "What?"

"We're going to live here... forever?" Henley asked, her voice cracking.

Dylan frowned. "Well, I'd say more like very far into the foreseeable future, anyways. Unless you have to be relocated in case of an emergency, in which case the house will be moved to another city. But that's never happened to this estate, and we hope it won't ever have to. Now come on! Grab your bags! We need to get you settled—your self-defense instructor should already be inside. Come on, let's go..."

* * *

**Well, there it is! I encourage you to R&R, but you don't have to. **

**I want to warn y'all of something: next Wednesday, I will be flying out to Tuscon, AZ. I will be staying in a small cabin in teh mountains with temperatures in the hundreds with a bunch of crazy people who are obsessed with bugs, and I don't know if there will be Wi-Fi, so I may not be able to update. I mean, I know that me updating is most certainly not that important to you, but I just want to let you know so that you don't think I dropped off the face of the Earth or something like that. Well, I guess this trip is pretty much the same thing anyway... :D**

**xxIrisxx**


	5. Chapter 4: You Look Like Hell

**Guys, I am so so so so sooooo sorry that I didn't update sooner. There ****_was_**** Wi-Fi at the cabins where we stayed, ten miles down a dirt road outside of a small town in the mountains of Arizona, but if they went over their quota they got slapped with a huge fine. So I couldn't do much, and I barley had time to write, and before that I got sick, so I couldn't do anything, and I'm really sorry. To make it up to you, I'm going to try to upload two chapters tonight, then I should be updating at least every four or five days. I'm in camp... yeah, I have a busy summer. I'll shut up now and I'll let you read, because I'm really sorry! :( **

**Thanks again for all the reviews and follows and favorites... and I'm really gonna shut up now. Really. ;D**

* * *

**Chapter 4: You Look Like Hell**

**(Anastasia's POV)**

**Location: Highway 95, outside of Delata, Florida, USA**

**Current time: 3:46 pm, Eastern**

**Date: June 2, 2013 **

**Current alias: None**

"Listen, Maggie. You have very specific orders from The Eye. If you follow them all and don't mess up, then you're in."

"Two things. First off, I'm doing this my brother, no matter what The Eye thinks about that. Second off, don't call me Maggie—only a few people call me that, and I'd like to keep it that way. None of those people have ever included you, and you know how much I hate change. I'd appreciate being called Anastasia by The Eye, if you don't mind."

"Fine… _Anastasia_. Happy now?" he snickered.

"Very," I said sarcastically. I turned and rested my arm on the window of the open convertible, letting my head flop over and rest on my shoulder. "You were telling me about my very specific orders that I must follow with blind obedience?"

"Yes. You are to stay with the Horsemen at all times. You _must not_ let one of them be alone, no matter what happens. If you split up, there must be at least two of you together."

"What happens when I need to go to the bathroom, Black? I have my feminine needs, you know," I teased him, seeing his face flush a light pink for a moment.

"Then you can take Reeves with you. You are going to train them in self-defense, with _and_ without magic. I expect you can do that?"

I let out a small, short laugh, dripping with disbelief. "No, Black. I, Anastasia Rhodes, second-best assassin that The Caste has ever recruited (not to mention a magician) cannot train four street magicians in self-defense, with or without the use of magic. It is impossible." I snorted in the most un-ladylike way.

"Wow. She's as modest as ever," Black muttered under his breath.

"And still has an excellent sense of hearing as well."

He made no comment. "Anastasia, these four are much more than just street magicians. They're now idols that magicians and just normal people look up to, not only in America, but all over the world. I hate to say it, but even you might be out of your depth."

I looked at him with a grin on my face. "Oh, my dear old friend, you have much to learn. I've been giving many difficult missions, all of which started much worse than this one has, and ended much worse than this one will, and I managed. I think I can cope, Black."

"Fine. Repeat your orders back to me."

"Stay with the Horsemen at all times and never let anyone be alone, take Reeves with me to the bathroom whenever I need to take care of my feminine needs, and train all four of them in self-defense with _and_ without magic," I stated in a mock professional tone, straitening up in my seat, counting out the list on my fingers, then showed him the three fingers I held up. "Good, right?"

"Right, good. Next—" he began, but I cut him off

"There's more? Why can't this just be as simple as The Caste was? All you ever told me to do _then_ was scope out the person, stay out of sight and kill the bastard. This is so _complicated_!" I whined.

Of course, I didn't really mean it—this was so easy. I just loved teasing Black, especially since I knew he'd always had a crush on me, but I had never returned it. He said he's gotten over it a long time ago, but I still loved to tease him about it. And I didn't really believe him.

"Oh, shut it, Anastasia. When we get to the house, they won't be home yet. They'll get here tomorrow with Dylan, and you two can have your happy reunion and whatever. But before you do, we need you to do something."

"Does it involve ending a life?" I asked nervously.

"No, but you get to test each of the Horsemen on their abilities in self-defense." I groaned. I hated testing people.

"Killing somebody would be so much easier."

"Hey, you're the one that said you were up for the challenge!" I opened my mouth to argue, but quickly closed it again. "Anyways," he continued with a smug expression that I wanted to wipe off his face, "we need you to surprise them. Hide in the house close to the door, then jump out and attack them when they come in. They'll know that you're in the house, but not that you're going to attack them."

"Well, duh. Otherwise that takes away the element of surprise, doesn't it?"

Black glared at me, then put his eyes back on the road, honking angrily at some car who swerved into our lane as if he didn't see us. I braced myself against the door, but made no comment, seeing that he was clearly angry. I figured I had better tone it down.

"You done?" He asked, annoyed. I nodded. "Good. You'll attack the first one you see. It's most likely that the other three will try to help whoever it is, so then you'll be four-on-one. Two things to make sure of—don't hurt any of them, at all, and second, don't attack Dylan."

I was about to make some smart comment about why on Earth would I attack my own brother, but managed to say something else. "By 'hurt them', do you mean, like, don't break anything? I can bruise 'em a little, right? Otherwise it's a little hard to assess their individual skills."

Black sighed. "Yeah, sure. Whatever, just try to be careful. Nothing that won't go away in... two days."

"Deal."

He smiled. "Great." He paused. "You know, you look like hell. When was the last time you slept?"

I thought for a bit. "Two nights ago. I slept for seven hours."

He looked taken aback. "Anastasia, go to sleep."

"Why?"

"Because you look terrible, and you need to be on top of things tomorrow. The drive from Delata to Crows Landing is four hours, so you have three and half to sleep. And you have the house to yourself for the night, so you can catch up then, too. You really need it. So go. To. Sleep. I'm gonna stop at a few places on the way to the house, but you can stay in the car, alright?"

I nodded, just now realizing how tired I was. I closed my eyes and leaned into the black leather seat, letting the wind from the open car whip my face and pull my dark hair around in all sorts of crazy directions. As I was drifting off, I heard my stomach rumble.

"Black?" I asked without opening my eyes.

"Mm-hmm?"

"I haven't eaten in two days either. Can we stop and get some food? I'm hungry…"

I could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke. "Will do, Anastasia. Don't worry. Go to sleep now."

"Thanks, Black."

He said nothing, so I continued to fall asleep to the sound of the air rushing by outside and the occasional other car passing us on the old, country highway.

888

**Location: Mall parking lot, somewhere in Florida, USA**

**Current time: 6:23 pm, Eastern**

**Date: June 2, 2013 **

**Current alias: None**

I didn't wake up for what must have been hours. I found I was correct when I snapped to attention, forgetting where I was. Then I remembered: Black and The Eye... my new mission... Dylan... It all came flooding back. I looked around, trying to figure out where I was.

I was still in Black's convertible, and though it was parked it was still running with the keys in the ignition. We were in a mall parking lot, stopped in front of an Apple store. I had absolutely no idea why we were parked here, but I could see Black inside, talking with one of the store goonies. I saw a note on the dashboard in front me, underneath a paper to-go bag from Wendy's.

I picked up the note from under the bag and unfolded it, looking at Black's relatively neat handwriting.

_Anastasia,_

_Be back out in a sec. Got you a salad from Wendy's. Don't go anywhere._

_Black_

I smiled, then scoffed to myself. _As if I could go anywhere anyways. Not that you'd let me._

I reached for the bag, seeing that inside it was a spicy chicken Caesar salad—my favorite. This was a well-known fact throughout The Caste, especially in my Unit, and I took a lot of grief for it, though I never really understood why.

Just as I had opened the to-go container and fished out a fork, Black walked around to the driver's side, threw something into my lap, slid into his seat and slammed his door shut. I picked up the object he had tossed at me. I looked from him to it incredulously.

"You got me an iPhone?" I asked, dumbfounded. He just nodded, then put the car in full gear and sped off, weaving between badly-parked cars. "Why'd you get me an iPhone? The last phone I had was that crummy little flip phone—I ditched it when I ran."

He laughed, throwing his head back and nearly driving off the road. "You mean you ran over it in the car you stole, which just so happened to be mine." I was still to dumbstruck to comment, which he found very amusing. "Well, I'm flattered that you like it. Home-warming gift from The Eye."

"What about the salad?" I quizzed.

"Nah, that one was on me. After all, it doesn't take a magician to figure out your favorite fast food meal, does it, Anastasia?"

He winked at me and I didn't respond, but instead eagerly opened the plastic case and began setting up the phone.

_I can't believe it. I'm being treated like a princess,_ I thought as I ate my salad and messed with the iPhone at the same time. _Maybe this won't be so bad after all..._

* * *

**Again, I'm really sorry for the long wait. Keep an eye out for the next chapter, because I still have to write that one ****_and_**** the one for my other story... so keep an eye out, it might be at least another hour or two! Ta-ta for now!**

**Oh, I almost forgot: please review! Or not, but I'd really appreciate it. They make my day!**

**xxIrisxx**


	6. Chapter 5: Kickin' and Screamin'

**Hey, guys! Sorry, I was banned from the computer last night after it became this morning... I was then forced back into my room where I had to write a whole chapter on ****_paper._**** I know, the horror, right!? ;D Anyways, here is the promised chapter 5, which I would like to dedicate to my lovely reviewer RanDoMer, who gave me an idea for the fight scene. I hope you like it!**

**Well, here 'tis!**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Kickin' and Screamin'**

* * *

**(Anastasia's POV)**

**Location: The Four Horsemen's Mansion, outskirts of Crows Landing, Florida, USA**

**City Population: 248**

**Current time: 6:37 am, Eastern**

**Current date: June 3, 2013**

I leaned against the door frame leading to the kitchen that was only a little ways away from the enormous front doors, my legs crossed, an arm bent out in front of me as I stared at my watch, the little second hand _tick-tick-ticked_ away on the face.

As soon as I had stepped into the house last night with Black, I had loved it. When you walked in, you were immediately met by the most beautiful grand piano I had ever seen. It was a black Kuhn-Bösendorfer piano (an extremely expensive brand) fitted with a red-and-black reversible cover—I was utterly and completely star-struck when I first saw it. Behind it was a very large L-shaped couch that could have fit four grown men lying down facing each other on each side. To the left was the downstairs bathroom, the dining room and the kitchen, and to the right was the living room, which was equipped with a couch, coffee table, rocking chair, love seat and a very, very large 10-foot, flat-screened TV with built-in speakers and movie shelves.

Then when you walked past the piano and the L-couch, there was a big sliding-glass door, and behind it were two indoor pools. One was a diving pool that went up to 13 feet and the other was a circular pool that could be used as a jacuzzi or a hot-tub if the bubbles and heat were turned on. You could also open two more door behind the polls to let in outside air and look out on the backyard patio.

Upstairs were the bedrooms and the craft room, which had already been filled with painting supplies (courtesy of The Eye when Black had told them my love of painting). Four of the bedrooms had balconies over the fenced-in backyard, and there was a bathroom in the middle that connected the two rooms on either side of it.

There was a cut-out in the middle of the second floor that allowed you to look down over the banister and see what was going on below on the piano and the L-couch, assuming you could see past the enormous crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. On either side of that were two more bedrooms—one was mine and the other was a guest bedroom. They each had connecting doors—mine to the laundry room and a large closet, while the guest bedroom connected to the upstairs bathroom.

"Wow," I had said when I walked in yesterday afternoon. "This is... incredible."

Black had just bust out laughing, at which point I had asked what was so funny.

"It's just... you, after all these years hiding in crappy motels, and now you're staying here. This is like a freakin' rags-to-riches fairy tale!" I had punched him on the arm.

He had showed me around after I brought my duffel bag up to my room, where I had tossed it onto the neatly-made bed.

"The Eye has promised a shopping trip for all of you to get clothes and room decorations and what-not, so you can go crazy. But not _too_ crazy, if you know what I mean," he added after seeing the mischievous glint in my eyes.

I had slept for the rest of the night after that, feeling safe, then woken up at five this morning and played piano until right about now, when I heard the sound of car doors slamming, voices talking, and suitcases falling onto the ground from the trunk. I knew it was time for a show. I smirked, knowing that the Four Horsemen were most defiantly in for a surprise.

888

The lock clicked and the heavy door opened slowly. I shrunk back a little to watch them from behind the door frame, hidden in the shadows of the kitchen so as not to be seen.

The first to enter was a woman, my senior my maybe five years. Her hair was a flaming, fiery orange color, while her lipstick was a deep pink that matched the fingerless gloves covering her small hands.

_This must be Henley Reeves,_ I thought.

Reeves was closely followed by two more men, walking side-by-side. One was much older than her, but would not be considered "old". He sported a black dress shirt and matching pants, along with a black fedora. This man I recognized as Merritt McKinney, the mentalist. Beside him was a boy, about my age, with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He looked tired and worn out, but in that 'I've-been-stuck-in-a-car-for-twenty-hours-and-sle pt-the-whole-way-here' kind of way.

_Jack Wilder._

And behind the two of them entered the man that had caused me all this trouble in the first place. J. Daniel Atlas. I knew that he was one of the Four Horsemen when Black had told me, but I had thought it might be some _other_ Daniel Atlas. I mean, I had met a few other Atlas's on my journeys, so I had hoped beyond hope that it wasn't him, though I really didn't know why.

I shook my thoughts from my head when the last person walked in. Dylan. My big brother, Dylan Rhodes, or shall I say Dylan Shrike. My stomach did flip-flops, but whether in excitement or anger I didn't know. Soon, I didn't care.

They were standing there, looking around the house in awe, and I wondered if I had looked that stupid when I had walked in. Probably even more so. This just made me angrier, but I tried to hold it at bay as I slipped along the wall away from my hiding place, flipping on a baseball cap I had "borrowed" from a teenage boy, covering my hair and face. Nobody saw me on the wall, which greatly amused me.

_Wow, this is going to be _really_ simple if they're like this the whole time. Eh, maybe they're just sluggish from the car ride. I'll try to take it easy on them..._

I checked my watch—I really wanted to see how long this took. It was 6:43 am, Eastern time. Great.

The Wilder kid made some remark somewhere along the lines of "this is AWESOME!", but I quickly cut off anybody else's comments by launching my first attack.

Using the wall as a spring-board, I jumped up, twisting in the air, landing in a crouch next to McKinney. He looked mildly surprised, not sure what to do, and he didn't really understand until I had taken my leg, balancing on my two hands and other foot, and spun around, knocking his legs from behind and sweeping him off his feet where he landed on his back. It gushed the air from his lungs and he coughed for breath, rolling onto his side.

"Oh... good grief..." He sputtered.

Grinning, I decided that he would be down for a while yet and turned to Henley, who had caught on to the fact there was some unknown person in their house and was attacking them. She ran at me, and I rolled my eyes. Yup, this was going to be _so_ much easier than I had originally thought if they all went into combat like that.

I looked for the best weak point in her attack, and quickly found that it was indeed the way she had her arms outstretched as if to push me back. When she came close enough to me, I grabbed her arm and bent down, rounding my back and squaring my shoulders (this would make it more comfortable for her to land) and I used her momentum to flip her onto my back, then I stood up and allowed her to slide onto the floor in a sitting position. She didn't have time to turn around and swipe at me before I launched into a roll from my standing position and was on to my next opponents.

The kid (I realized this was very hypocritical of me) and Atlas had teamed up and were standing on either side of me: Wilder behind me and Atlas in front, while Dylan stood, mouth agape, beside the door, probably wondering what the hell was happening. I guessed that he hadn't known about this part of the plan. I turned sideways so that I could see both of my attackers. By now, I was right beside the piano, so I leaned against the side of it casually, holding up my hand in front of my face, as if inspecting my fingernails.

I adapted a fake British accent, also making myself sound like a boy—and I must say that it was pretty persuasive, and if I didn't know it was fake I would have defiantly been convinced.

"Come now, Atlas. Surely you remember me? I mean, even though you can't see my face..." If possible, he looked even more confused than he already was, and I rolled my head over dramatically to see Wilder mirroring his expression. "Aww, are the kids confused? Well, Atlas," I turned my back on Wilder, "allow me to jog your memory."

I held out my hand, palm-up, and brought it up to my mouth as though I were going to blow him a kiss. I blew into my palm, creating the illusion of hundreds of butterflies emerging from my hands and flying directly into his face. He yelped, swatting at the poor creatures as they flapped in front of his eyes and messed with his hair.

I laughed heartily, keeping the illusion tight around his face so that he wouldn't be able to see anything until I let it go. I faced Wilder, who was staring at me like an idiot.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, tutting. "Yeah, I know I'm irresistible, but close your mouth and fight me—don't want the flies to get in when you atta—" I trailed off abruptly when I saw him flip his hands around, playing cards fanning out between his fingers.

I heard Dylan snort, and I made a mental note to find out why he did later.

In the meantime, I gave him a 'seriously? Playing cards?' look.

He shrugged. "Why not?"

He then proceeded to fling them at me, one at a time, with practiced aim and simple, sharp flicks of the wrist. As much as I hated to admit it, this surprised me, enough to drop my guard and let the illusion that was attacking Atlas fade away. I vaguely heard him stop dancing around in circles behind me, but didn't really think about it as one of Wilder's cards hit me just below the eye, slicing the skin. I felt a little bit of blood trickle down my cheek. He continued to fling cards at me until he ran out, at which point I felt myself back into the man behind me.

I sighed, knowing that I might as well let them win. I didn't really register, but let Atlas push me to the ground, and I felt a pain in the back of my head as the hair piled on top of my scalp under my baseball cap (which somehow had not fallen off) pressed into my skull. Atlas had me pinned down to the carpeted floor, keeping one of my hands by my side and the other above my head while one of his legs was thrown across mine to keep them from moving. Jack stood above us, panting, more playing cards ready to throw at me.

I felt one of Atlas' hands leave my wrist, and I immediately knew what was coming. I braced myself for the pain—and boy did it hurt. I never would have pegged him as a puncher, but when his fist made contact with my eye, it took everything I had to not scream in pain. I very suddenly wished that I hadn't made myself sound and look like a boy—probably wouldn't have gotten punched then. It's the sad truth of American culture.

I lay there, not meeting anyone's gaze, waiting for something to happen or for someone to do something.

After all, Page 3, paragraph seven of the Caste's Assassination Book: "Unless in the act of killing someone or launching a surprise attack, it is never a good idea to make the first move on your opponent. Wait for an opening, then go for it."

And so I waited.

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**Hope you liked it, folks! Look out for the next chapter: it'll be coming very soon, I can promise you that! Again, thank you to all my reviewers and followers and favoriters... Love to you all, and keep it up, 'cause they make my day! :D**

**xxIrisxx**


	7. Chapter 6: Looks on Faces

**Sorry for the late update, guys! I've been super busy-I was in this theater camp and we had to put on a musical after two weeks of working, and we just had the show today. It went great, in case you were wondering, and it was really fun! Anyways, here's the next chapter of ****_Four Steps Ahead_****, so please enjoy! Oh, and thanks again for all your wonderful reviews, and to the people who have followed and favorited me! Luv y'all!**

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**Chapter 6: Looks on Faces**

**(Anastasia's POV)**

**Location: The Four Horsemen's Mansion, Crows Landing, Florida, USA**

**City Population: 248**

**Current time: 6:42 am, Eastern**

**Current date: June 3, 2013**

There I lay, waiting for something to happen. Perhaps more fighting. Perhaps not. I really, really hoped that option B came next.

My wish was granted.

"Take off the hat, boy," Dylan growled.

I giggled, letting my boyish façade drizzle away. "I am _not_ a guy." By now, McKinney and Reeves had managed to get up and were now standing over me. Wilder leaned down and grabbed the rim of my cap, yanking it off my head. I raised up a bit towards Atlas, shaking out my long, dark hair, causing everyone to gasp. "Geez, sorry to disappoint!" I looked up at Atlas, who was still holding me down, though I wasn't going anywhere. "Hey, Atlas, think you can let me up? This shiner's really hurting, and I'd rather not have to clean blood off the carpet from the cut that _you just deepened_."

He didn't look convinced, nor did he didn't relax his gaze. I looked around at all of them, seeing that they were staring at me expectantly.

"Do we get a name?" Dylan asked pointedly.

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. "Really? Wow, Dylan. That's sad. That's really, really sad. And you!" I scoffed, looking between my brother and the magician holding me down. "I mean, I can't have changed _that_ much since you last saw me, Atlas. I didn't even dye my hair!" They both looked very, very confused, more so than the other three Horsemen who had by now gathered around me in a circle. "Can I have my hand back?"

"Sorry, but no." Atlas gripped my arm harder, twisting it hard to the side—I heard a snap and I winced, though obviously none of the others had heard it, and if they did they thought nothing of it.

My eyes filled with anger and pain, and I was sure that he could see it when I saw his twinge with a little fear. "Well, sorry to be Johnny Raincloud here, but now I _really_ need to get up."

I could hear the stupid, throbbing pain dripping from the words coming out of my mouth, but I wasn't sure if anybody else did. When had I become so soft as to let my pain show just because of an injured wrist? I was an _assassin_ for goodness' sake!

"Oh, yeah? And why's that?" Wilder asked.

I shifted my gaze, tears forming in my eyes as I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, trying to keep from screaming in pain at the tight hold Atlas still had on my wrist. I was in agony—everything was fading into different shades of yellow, and I could tell I was going to black out soon. But not if I could help it.

"Because, Wilder, you're idolized magician here just did something bad to my wrist, and it hurts far worse than you could possibly imagine, especially with him still gripping onto me like that. Now…"

I quickly brought my head up and smacked the top of my head into Atlas' chest, finally allowing him to let me go so he could clutch his top lungs in pain. I kicked him off of me, shifted my weight onto my uninjured arm, rolling over and sitting up so that I was on my knees in front of Atlas.

He finally stood up and looked like he wanted to reach down and pin me to the ground again, but he rationalized because of my one stupid mistake.

"Don't… even… think about it," I stuttered, feeling them all advancing in on me. My mistake was to actually allow a tear to stream down my face. I felt it rolling down, down, down, dripping off my chin and splattering onto the carpet, soaking into the material. But I knew they all saw it, and that's what made them pause.

I looked up from my wrist which I was now cradling against my chest, prodding gently to find the injury point. I could tell that it wasn't broken, but probably dislocated. I tried bending it, but found that it was immobilized. Yep, defiantly dislocated.

"I'll ask one more time, and one more time only. Who. Are. You?" Dylan shouted, stepping around to be directly in front of me.

I snapped my gaze back to him, right into his eyes.

"Dylan, you filthy, dirty, lying _pig_!" I screamed. "You don't remember me?! Now at least I know why you stopped writing!" The look in his eyes grew from anger to a mild sort of cross between confusion and understanding. "Yeah, that's right. '_Dear Sister_' you said to me! '_I miss you so much. I wish I could see you. I wish I knew where you were._'" He finally put it all together, falling to his knees in front of me.

"Anastasia, I—" He reached out his hands towards my face, but I scuttled backwards on my knees, looking away, still seeing the shades of yellow swimming across my vision.

"Don't. You stopped writing. You left me alone, wondering what had happened to you. You left me to grow up all on my own, not knowing if I was going to be OK. I had no comfort because I had no friends and I had no family, because the only one that I knew was still alive and well told me that he was changing his name and he would write again soon, and he wished me a happy seventh birthday. Then I never heard from him again! I burned every last letter and every last photograph that you had ever sent me. The only thing I have left is the stupid locket, and believe me, if I could get rid of it, I would! But you know what?"

I could see him shaking his head, his eyes welling up. My face was already dripping with the salty tears, and I managed to convince myself that it was from the agonizing pain in my wrist. Which simply refused to be ignored. Gee, thanks, Atlas.

He continued shaking his head as I yelled at him after my small pause. "I can't get rid of it because mom and dad gave it to me before they left me on that doorstep with a note. A note, telling that man to take me in and train me, and for him to keep reminding me that they loved me! It's for them, and _only_ for them, you got that?"

Atlas, Reeves, Wilder and McKinney had backed away from us a little, but were still looking on with shocked expressions. I met Atlas' gaze once again, cursing my tear-stained face.

"Atlas, you too. Not that I expect you to remember me, but maybe you will—after all, you seemed very, very intrigued at what I could do."

I nodded over to a spot on the white carpet, sending a message zooming across the space and writing itself out on the floor.

_My name is Anastasia Rhodes. Maybe you remember me as Maggie._

The Four Horsemen gathered around the message, and I kept it there for a minute before making it fade away, allowing an image to appear. It was of the _MAGIC_ necklace Atlas had given me, next to his deck of cards. He looked over at me, and I smirked.

"You're that… that girl! From the park, the one who left me the note on the bench!"

"Oh, _now_ he remembers," I spat. "Yeah, I really wasn't lying when I said I would never forget you."

My attention was caught when Dylan finally spoke again.

"Anastasia, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to stop writing. The Eye wouldn't let me after they found something out about you—they told me it was the organization you were working for, but they didn't tell me the name or what they did or where it was… anything! They just forbid me from contacting you because The Eye and the organization had some bad blood, or whatever. I tried, but they always managed to stop me, even if I used another name! I hated them for it… I knew what it would do to you, but I couldn't do anything to stop it."

My eyes widened and I could feel my heart starting to melt. He hadn't purposely stopped writing! He had tried to contact me, but he couldn't!

But there was one thing still heavy on my mind before I was ready to forgive him.

"Why couldn't you recognize me? You asked me to send you a picture, and I did, every time I wrote you. So why couldn't you see who I am?"

"Because you're not the little 7-year-old girl from the last picture I saw. You're a woman now, and you have no idea how different you look." He paused. "That good enough for you?" He asked softly.

I considered it for a moment before giving in.

I nodded, by now far too weak and overpowered by pain to speak.

_Damn, when did I become so… gentle and forgiving?_ I thought.

And I thought it again when I fell to the floor, flipping onto my shoulder so as to avoid crushing my wrist any more than it had been and doing more permanent damage. Granted, this was pretty bad, but at least not as bad as having the bones contorted or deformed—I had abandoned that possibility upon inspection of the injury.

I groaned, noticing that a black ring had formed around the edges of my vision and was moving inwards. I saw everybody leaning over me, and I squirmed uncomfortably under their gaze, but quickly recovered.

"Don't… move me… when I black out… Get me some ice, okay?"

I saw Wilder nod—he seemed the least affected by the news of my relations with Dylan out of the four of them. This was my final thought as I slipped into a mind-bending state of total and utter blackness.

888

I awoke feeling like I had just had a bag of ice set on my head and another, even stranger one that I had a strip of cotton balls lined up around my wrist, which was throbbing. And it was the latter feeling that sent the signal to my brain to snap my eyes open.

Everything was unclear at first and a little swimmy, but I eventually began to see more clearly. I was laying down, and it turned out that I had been right about the bag of ice—indeed, there was one sitting on my forehead, freezing my brain cells.

I looked around a little, trying to remember what had happened. Dylan… letters… my wrist… passed out… PASSED OUT! Oh, yeah. That.

I tried to sit up, but I was held down by a strong arm across my stomach. I looked up and was met by the intense gaze of two brown eyes, staring right into my own. I smiled up at the owner.

"Hey, big brother. Tell Atlas I said thanks for the wrist."

He smiled back down at me nervously.

"Tell him yourself, little sis."

He nodded his head to the side and I saw Atlas sitting beside me, looking rather guilty. I grinned at him. "Hey, Atlas! Sorry, didn't see 'ya. Thanks for the wrist and the shiner, by the way. They'll be nice to show off for days!" He swallowed, not really knowing what to say at my sarcastic remark. "I would say don't worry about it, but I can't. So I'll say don't worry about _me_ hurting _you_ because of it. That's not my job."

He nodded, and I closed my eyes, trying not to think about what needed doing very, very soon. I kept them closed as I spoke to Dylan.

"Dylan, keep your hands away from my face for a few minutes—I tend to bite hard when I'm in excruciating pain."

I didn't give any of them time to question me before I had taken a hold of my wrist with my other hand (mind you it was difficult with so much swelling), feeling for the dislocation point in the bones and jerking it. Hard. Very, very, _very_ hard. I heard a loud crunch then a pop, and that combined with the feeling of the bones sliding around beneath my skin were enough to cause me to scream.

I brought my uninjured hand down to the floor, digging my nails into the carpet and gripping on for dear life.

I lay there, tossing and turning, eyes still closed, head in Dylan's lap, for a few more minutes, trying to let the pain subside. I knew it wouldn't go away anytime soon, but I could hope that this agonizing pulsing originating from somewhere in all the nerves in my wrist and lower arm would at least dull down to a softer ache.

It took a while, but eventually, I relaxed my grip on the carpet, letting out a sigh.

"I need to keep it elevated," I muttered, taking the ice that had fallen onto the ground beside me and placing it on my wrist.

The cold felt amazing the moment it touched the hot, swollen skin. I sat up now, with a little push from Dylan. He came around to my side and tried to help me stand up when I started to, but I nudged him away with my shoulder and proceeded to do so on my own. The pain was much, much less by now and was pretty numb from the ice, but I knew better than to think that it would stay in that lulled, almost peaceful state of numbness.

Once standing, I still felt a little tipsy, so I allowed Dylan to wrap a protective and gentle arm around my waist, and I walked over to the piano bench, sitting down so I was facing the Four Horsemen who were standing in a semi-circle around me.

I leaned back against the key-cover, bending my arm so that my wrist rested against my shoulder with the ice bag in between. Dylan sat beside me on the wide bench, still holding me around the waist with one arm while the other hand stroked my hair as I leaned up against him.

I looked around at my four knew protect-ees and train-ees, asking myself why in the world I had agreed to do this. Oh, yeah. My brother. Who didn't recognize me until ten minutes ago.

I smiled at all of them, seeing the relief flood back onto their faces when I did.

"So, who wants to be the first to ask the special guest a question, class?" I asked sarcastically.

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**There it is! I'll try to update again-school's starting soon. UGH! Well, ta-ta for now! Don't forget to review-no pressure! :D**

**xxIrisxx**


	8. Chapter 7: Pop Quiz

**Hello, friends! And readers who just come here because they're desperate for more Now You See Me fan fiction like there should be. Seriously, why are the numbers not growing in great amounts?! Anyways, I'm too tired to write anything of significance up here, or down on the bottom... yeah, I know. I'm lazy. But apparently not lazy enough to give you a new chapter! Or apparently to keep going when I said I would stop talking ages ago... :O I really am losing it! AAAAHHH! Run for your lives!**

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**Chapter 7: Pop Quiz**

**(Anastasia's POV)**

**Location: Four Horsemen's Mansion, Crows Landing, Florida, USA**

**City Population: 248**

**Current time: 6:57 am, Eastern**

**Current date: June 3, 2013**

"So, who wants to be the first to ask the special guest a question, class?"

The question hung in the air for a while, and I could practically see the gears spinning in their heads as they processed everything. Daniel was the one who spoke to me first, but he did not look me in the eye.

"You told me when you left that note that you were going to leave whoever you were working for—"

"—I did. I left them the very next day," I cut him off. "Next question."

"What you're not going to elaborate?" Reeves asked.

"No."

"No?"

"No. If you ask me to tell you the story, I will. I said I would answer you questions, and I just answered his, so ask away."

Reeves chuckled a little. "If you hadn't just tried to kill me right then, I would say I thought I was going to like you."

I smirked. "I'm going to translate that to a question and assume you all want to know why I'm here." They didn't say anything, but stared at me expectantly. "I'm here because The Eye hired me to train you in self-defense and to protect you for some mission you're going on. They wanted me to test you as soon as I saw you—Black told me to make sure I didn't give you any injuries that wouldn't go away within a week, and that is exactly what I did. Though clearly you two didn't get the memo," I said, glaring at Wilder and Atlas.

"Wait, Black hired _you_ to do this job? That's why you're here? I told him to hire someone he knew was experienced enough to do it!"

Trying not to think about this as an insult, I looked down at the floor, then spoke very quietly. "He _does_ know I'm qualified to do this job because he trained me before I left."

I could feel Dylan's eyes burning holes into the side of my face.

"You... you used to work for The Caste? Like him?"

"_The Caste_?" McKinney asked skeptically. "Never heard of it."

"And you wouldn't have," I responded sourly. "It's a secret organization based in New York City, but we—I mean they—operate all over the country. They train people as spies, undercover agents, and assassins. That's what I was trained as. They find and kill off all the _real_ magicians that threaten to break people out of their stupid little bubble world where everything is normal. 'None of this magic nonsense', they say. No offense, guys."

Dylan was still staring at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He finally seemed to get a grip and manage a coherent sentence.

"They told me you worked for a secret organization, but they never said anything about you being trained as an assassin or working for The Caste!"

(I never said it was a _good_ coherent sentence.)

"Well, Dylan, it's not you could have done anything anyway!"

He didn't say anything else after that. It must have really stung. I knew he wanted to help me, and I knew that he couldn't, but I still blamed him—partially. He (or Dad) could have told Mom to do something with me other than leave me with her old boss. I couldn't completely blame him, though—Mom had left me with The Caste after I was born, then Dad died and she abandoned Dylan. But it wasn't like they were about to argue with her. She too was an assassin, and she had never wanted me. I was the accidental child. The screw-up. I sometimes doubted whether that locket actually meant what it said on the back. Actually, I more than doubted it at times.

I was yanked from my thoughts when Atlas, ever arrogant and clueless, decided to step in. I was actually sort of glad he did.

"So, how did you get out of there? Yes, I am now asking you to elaborate."

Never mind.

"Geez, you really want to hear the story, don't you?"

"Hey, you were the one that said you would answer our questions. And I think we deserve it after you attacked us without warning," Wilder said.

I pulled myself a little away from Dylan's chest, noticing that he still kept his arm around my waist.

"Listen, I'm sorry about that. You have no idea how much I hate assessing people on their skills, but apparently it was necessary. The only thing I hate more than that is..." I paused. I didn't want to say it. "...doing what assassins do. Anyways. The story."

I tried to begin hastily, not wanting to dwell too much on what I had done. I was still ashamed and afraid. Broken, you might say.

"After I left the note for Atlas, I went back to The Caste's dorm rooms. I put all of the stuff that I needed into my duffel bag, then took it with me up to the security room. There were very few people around, because mostly they try to stay out of there and keep an eye on the city or are out doing who-knows-what. There was one guard out there, and he was about my age—easy to flirt with. I picked his card off him and replaced it with the one that opened my dorm room.

"I went in and told them that Black, my Unit Leader, needed a Band Code."

"What's a band code?" Atlas asked.

I finally braved up and looked him in the eye. As I did, I tried my best to shrug out of my hoodie with one arm, but Dylan eventually ended up helping me, revealing the Band winding around my arm with the little device in the center.

"This is a Band. Everyone under the employment of The Caste has to wear one. They're disguised to just look like bracelets or something, and everyone has a fake, matching one that they can put on the other arm, too, in case they're wearing short sleeves.

"The leather ends around your arm attach to the device in the middle, which has wires that are stuck into your skin and can't come out without ripping out a chunk of flesh. When the green light here is on, it means that the Band is sending a signal back to The Caste and they can hear everything you say and they can track where you are. If they don't like what they hear or what they see, they electrocute you. And I don't mean like a dog's bark collar kind of thing. It's much worse."

This was obviously not what they were expecting to hear, because they all gasped. Atlas looked just as surprised as he had been on the first day he saw it. And just like he had done, they all reached out to touch it, and I nodded in admittance. Everyone except Dylan.

_Well, I'm glad he's taking it lying down! _I thought.

"The Band Code allows you turn it on and off. You have to get it from security, and they only give it to certain people: mainly Unit Leaders. And Black was mine, and I knew they all trusted me, so I guess they just figured it was OK to give it to me. I fed them this story about a faulty Band that was giving off false information and cutting in and out. I said that I had the number in my head, so he let me use the database and I stole the Code for my own Band.

"They never suspected a thing. I got out of there, then I waited for another day until I found a taxi driver willing to take me a long ways outside of the city. That was when I finally turned off my Band. Mind you it cost me a lot to pay that cabbie off, too! It was all the money I had in my wallet at the time, which I had to loose once I got the chance. I started calling myself Maggie Shrike, which was our father's name. Rhodes was our mother's maiden name. I'm actually impressed that you used it, Dylan."

Nobody said anything. "And a hush falls over the crowd," I whispered dramatically. "Not even a little chuckle? I mean, I know it's overused an all, but seriously, what a tough crowd!"

Dylan was the one to kill the awkward silence. I think he just made it even more awkward.

"How on Earth can you be joking around when we're all looking at that _thing_ that they put on you, Anastasia?"

The sound of his mortified and protective voice caused me to laugh, which just made him look more upset.

"Because I, unlike you, am capable of making a joke in even the toughest of situations. Deal with it. If you want to sympathize, then do it in your head. I've heard it enough from every other person I've ever met who I ever told the story. Which was Atlas. And, oh yeah... everyone in The Caste that was mortified about putting a Band on a one-year-old."

Dylan looked like he wanted to say something else, but I guess my look was enough to silence him.

"Am I allowed to ask a question?" McKinney asked a little sarcastically, and I sent him a small, pained smile.

"Yeah, go right ahead."

He cleared his throat. "So, what you did after you escaped?"

"I wandered from town to town as far away from New York as I could manage. I hitchhiked south across the country for five years after the day I ran away—that was my sixteenth birthday. I made my money in fancy hotels where I played piano, and then made small cash out on the streets doing magic. I slept in little motels ever two or three days, but never stayed in one place for too long. I know they're still looking for me, and unless The Eye can do anything about it, then I'm still in more danger than you all."

"Wow, what a way to make a living. And I thought I was doing poorly!" he joked.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I had to change my name every time I got into a new county. It was awful."

He let out a low whistle. "So you're only..." he put his fingers to his head as if trying to read my mind, "twenty-one? You're Jack's age?"

I shrugged and looked over at Wilder who was still staring at me.

"You really can't keep your mouth shut, can you, Wilder?"

He promptly snapped his jaw together, looking a little embarrassed.

"I lived on the streets for a while, too," he managed.

"Don't say you know what it's like, because you don't. You have everything you could possibly want compared to what I have. I mean, look at you all! You're The Four Horsemen... _plus_ Dylan Rhodes, as he is being called now. Still don't know why you used that name, Dylan." I shook my head, glancing at him again.

"I'm so sorry. I—"

"Stop saying you're sorry. I can't take it anymore! I know you are, and I am, too. But nothing is going to change what happened by apologizing. Neither of us could have done anything to change my _or_ your position."

I saw a glimmer of something I had never truly seen in someone's eyes before: pride. My big brother was proud of me, even with all the mistakes I had made.

He pulled me into a hug, and for once I thought that maybe, just maybe, I would be safe. Here with him, in his arms, I could at least pretend that everything was going to be alright for once.

"I missed you, Dylan," I whispered.

"I missed you too, Anastasia."

It was that one sentence that caused my heart to overcome my brain and forgive him.

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**You all know what I would normally say down here... I've been in camp for God knows how long and I'm exhausted So make something up and pretend it's written here. Ta-ta for now! :D**

**xxIrisxx**


	9. Chapter 8: Lessons

**Hey, everybody! I am so so sorry that I didn't update sooner, but I was grounded and my various electronic devices were taken away from me. I just got them back yesterday because I was a good child, but it was too late to write this chapter and my dad made me get off the computer before I could finish last night, so I had to do it today. Again, I'm sorry, but I'll shut up so you can read!**

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**Chapter 8: Lessons**

**(Anastasia's POV)**

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**Location: Four Horsemen's Mansion, Crows Landing, Florida, USA  
City Population: 248  
Current time: 12:27 pm, Eastern  
Current date: July 2, 2013**

It had been a month since Black picked me up and brought me to Crows Landing. My wrist had healed (with the help of a brace) and my black eye had gone away pretty quickly—though I had lost count of how many times I had to ice it during the day.

At least through all that, I had learned one thing—I was _not_ going to need to help Daniel with his punching skills.

Dylan and I spend hours catching up with each other, him telling me all about the Four Horsemen's grand acts and the whole FBI scandal (I had been on the run when all this happened, and hadn't had much time to think about it). He told me all about Alma, his French girlfriend, which was my new favourite thing to tease him about. He had yet to introduce me to her, but he assured me that I would like her.

Though I spent the majority of my time with Dylan, I also spent some time with the Four Horsemen, though I tried to keep my distance. They still seemed to be tense from everything they had been through, and I also figured they were itching to do some more magic. I hadn't wanted to work with them while they were settling in, so I let them relax for a while and get used to everything.

But it was _them_ who approached _me_ about it one night.

888

I was downstairs on the couch in the living room on my iPhone. I was in what you might call a very, very odd position. I was lying with my feet over the back of the couch while my head dangled off over the side so I was upside-down.

All four Horsemen came trampling down the stairs one night after Dylan had just left the house.

"Umm… Anastasia, what are you doing?" Henley asked me.

Yes, somewhere along the way, I had started calling them by their first names instead of last. Much to their surprise, I might add. They had often asked me about why I did it, and I told them it was habit. But at some point, I decided that I should at least be comfortable enough with them to call them by their first names, because they seemed content with using mine.

"Sitting on the couch and surfing the internet. What's it look like I'm doing?" I said.

"I don't know," she replied.

"Anyways, we were sort of wondering… well, weren't you supposed to actually, like, _teach_ us stuff?" I looked up at Merritt in wonder as he continued speaking. "Because, you haven't really been doing that, and we're supposed to be preparing for this mission that we haven't been told about yet."

I smiled at him and quickly did a back flip into a sitting position on the carpet in front of the couch, spinning to face them. They had become used to my little gymnastics displays by now, apparently, because none of them looked fazed.

"Ah, yes. We really _must_ prepare for the mission that none of us knows about," I said sarcastically, but nobody looked amused. Well, maybe Jack. "Alright, fine. I wanted to give you all a break so that you could get used to life here at your mansion and settle in before I started training you. And, in case you haven't noticed, I have been doing part of my job."

They all looked very, very confused. "Really?" Daniel asked. "All I've seen you doing so far is lazing around on your iPhone, watching movies, staying up late and getting up early. And correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think that's part of your job."

I smirked at him.

"No, all those things aren't part of my job, so it's a good thing that I haven't been doing them. Well, I have, but not how you think." No change in expression. "Wow, guys, really? You think I've been slacking off? I sort of figured out what your mission is going to be, and because I did, you think that I haven't been protecting you?"

They didn't say anything, so I sighed, then pointed up at the banister on the second floor above the piano.

"Video monitor there, above the front doors, by the back doors, and one at the entrances to all the downstairs rooms. Upstairs, I have cameras at all the outside entrances including the windows and the balcony doors that are programmed to recognize all of us, Dylan, Alma and anyone from The Eye. If anybody that it doesn't know comes in, it will alert me, and only me, by sending a signal to my phone and to the Band."

They all looked a little shocked… before Daniel shook himself from it and spoke, his tone a little testy.

"So you've been _spying_ on us? And what about watching TV and messing around on your iPhone?"

Geez, he really knew how to get on my nerves! But I forced myself to not get up and knock him to the ground.

"No, I can't actually _see_ anything from the upstairs cameras unless I get the signal that there's an intruder. So thank you _so_ much for trusting that I have the decency to respect your privacy. And when I'm on the TV, I'm usually watching the feed from the downstairs monitors, same as on my phone. It's easy to switch it to a movie when I hear one of you guys coming. The Eye didn't want you to know about the monitors yet, but I think you have the right to know."

Once again, they didn't say anything. That was a really bad habit of theirs I had come to recognize. It was Jack that finally said something to me.

"So… are you saying you'll start teaching us?"

I looked down at my iPhone, checking the monitors one last time before I clicked it off and zipped it up in the pocket of my leather jacket.

"You could take it that way, yes. We can start now, if you want. 'Before everything else, getting ready is the secret of success.' Henry Ford said that. I've always hated that quote. Let's move the coffee table. We can practice down here."

I somersaulted into a standing position, wobbling a bit, but steadied myself quickly.

888

It was an hour later that we still hadn't regrouped downstairs. I had no idea it could take that long for people to change into more comfortable clothes. Honestly, it only took me five minutes to change and put my long hair up into a ponytail. By the time I had finished, nobody was out yet so I went to the couch and began watching _2001: A Space Odyssey_. I was at least halfway through it when Jack came back downstairs.

"Sheesh, how long does it take to get changed?"

He just rolled his eyes at me.

"_I_ didn't take long… it was Henley. She wanted my opinion on what she should wear—I believe she's still trying to figure it out."

I laughed at that, and he came to sit down next to me on the couch. Unconsciously, I leaned back into his side, turning so that my feet were propped up on the arm of the couch and I crossed my arms over my chest. I felt him stiffen behind me, and I thought for a moment that maybe I had made a mistake, but he eventually relaxed again.

That was how the other three Horsemen found us half an hour later, still watching _A Space Odyssey_.

"Aww, look at you two," Henley teased when she saw us. "Warming up to each other so quickly—how time flies. Don't you agree Merritt?"

I glared at her as Merritt nodded and snickered.

"Does _everyone_ visualize Duct Tape over your mouth this early into a conversation?"

Jack snorted behind me, and Merritt was holding back laughter while Daniel was trying very hard to look stern. Henley was the one who looked the most amused, actually.

I smiled at her, standing up.

"Come on, let's get started. Who wants to go first?" I looked around, and when nobody volunteered, I rolled my eyes. "They never told me I was teaching Kindergarten students! Fine, be like that. Daniel, you're going first. Don't worry, I don't bite. And we'll start off easy, alright."

Everyone else went to the couch to watch as Daniel and I stood so that we were sideways to them.

"Alright, we'll start simple, but it's the simple stuff that's the most important. Let's start with just pushing away the opponent, then we can move from that into a flip. And NO MAGIC for right now, alright?"

"You call _flipping people_ the simple stuff?" Merritt questioned.

I glanced at him.

"You remember what I did to you a month ago when we first met? Well, that to me was simple. Except for the whole getting punched and getting my wrist dislocated. You owe me big time for that, Daniel, although much worse has happened to me."

He nodded a little sheepishly. "Yeah, sure."

"Alright. Now, when you're simply pushing someone away, you want to stand so that you're grounded. So put one foot in front of the other, but spread out a little bit so that you're balanced on both sides. Bend both knees, like this."

I showed them the way to do it, and they nodded.

"Now, when you push, you want to hold your hands flat out in front of you and keep your elbows bent, but at the same time be braced for impact. It's best to tighten the muscles in your upper arm when you stand like that, otherwise you might hurt yourself if they come at the right angle. When the person comes at you, you want to place your hands low on their shoulders or just under their neck where their collar bone is. Just do the shoulders for now, because I don't want anybody getting anything broken or damaging a windpipe. Now, Daniel, I want you to run at me."

I took the position, drawing in a breath. He ran at me, just as he was supposed to. I put out my hands to block him and pushed him backwards, sending him at least five feet away from me.

"See? It's not that hard, and it doesn't have to hurt unless you mean it to. The way to think of it is that when someone runs at you, they generally lean forward to put as much force on you as they can. When you block them in this stance, then your muscles act as shock absorbers and you can use their momentum against them."

I showed them how to do it a few more times with Daniel before I instructed them to get up and try it. After a few times, they had perfected the move and I figured it was time to teach them how to flip a person.

"This may seem difficult, but once you learn how, it's quite easy." I thought I heard Merritt scoff, but I ignored it. "First, you stand in the same position that we just went over. But when the person comes at you, you want to grab their arms instead of pushing them away."

I instructed Daniel to run at me slowly, so that I could show them step by step what to do.

"Then, once you have their arms, you want to bend down on your knees and prop your back leg up a little so that you have more leverage. But don't let your head come down just yet. If you do this fast enough, you won't have to move, and your opponent will do all the work for you. They should continue to come towards you, and your head should be down now so that you head-butt them in the stomach."

I pulled Daniel forward slightly so that the top of my head was on his stomach and I was looking and speaking to the floor.

"They'll double over if you hit them hard enough, and when they do, you move forward. Make sure that you roll your head inwards towards yourself as you do. Arch your back up and pull their arms downwards, then forwards, and all the while keep ducking under them. If you do it properly, then you should be able to…"

I trailed off as I flipped Daniel over in one smooth motion, where he landed on his back on the ground. I laughed a little at his apparent pain, then went around to help him up.

"Sorry, Daniel. You wanna try it on me?"

This idea obviously sounded appealing, because he smirked and shrugged a little—I had learned that he wasn't one to show that he liked another person's ideas, so I had to learn to read him. This was not something I couldn't do, but he had proven to be difficult, being the arrogant control freak that he was.

And so the lesson continued, and I was fairly certain that some of the bruises I ended up with might have been on purpose.

* * *

**Well, there it is, y'all, and once again I am sorry for the long waits between updates, but honestly I couldn't do anything about it! So, yeah. Sorry. I'll update ASAP, I promise! I really and truly do! Oh, and yay! I'm trying to move a little bit forward with the whole Jack and Anastasia stuff, but I'm not entirely sure how I should do it. If you wanted to review and give me ideas/suggestions/requests for other stuff as well, it would be much appreciated... *wink wink*... Anyways...**

**Bye-bye, now! I'll keep my promise!**

**xxIrisxx**


	10. Chapter 9: Dreams

**OK, I would tell you the story of the little 8-year-old who wouldn't let me use my computer when she was over at our house, but I know you want to read, so I'll shut up.**

**This chapter is dedicated to Ava- thank you so much for your review! Oh, and sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the others. *sniff* Sorry!**

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**Chapter 9: Dreams**

**(Anastasia's POV)**

_I wasn't in the mansion. I wasn't in Crows Landing. I wasn't even in Florida._

_New York City was not like any other city in America—it wasn't just a city. It was alive. From the cars zooming down the busy roads to the people playing Frisbee in the parks to the young couples in love who wandered down the streets aimlessly, it was like being in the very center of a hub of organized chaos._

_And this is what made it the perfect for The Caste to base themselves here, because nobody noticed the young girl wandering down the streets with the small backpack. Nobody notices the handle of a knife sticking out of her high, black boots, or the bulge in her jeans pockets that could easily be a small bottle of gasoline and lighter. To all of them, she is just a normal teenager without a care in the world except for herself, her friends and her social status._

_But they are wrong._

_She picks up her pace as she sees him turn down an alleyway, glancing around quickly as if to check for followers. This is a habit that every street magician gains and they never leave behind._

_She slowly and casually checks around the corner of the brick wall where she saw him disappear. She sees him climbing high above her head on a black ladder running up the side of the abandoned two-story building. The windows are boarded with rotting wood and the brick looks sun-bleached and old compared to other buildings around the city. She looks higher still and sees his destination: the sign above him reads "COROCO BAKERY AND CAFÉ", and she sees the handle to the hidden door in the middle of one of the Os in 'COROCO'._

_He reaches the handle and pushes the O back so it is slightly open, slipping inside the building and closing it behind him. She smirks to herself knowingly. Typical._

_She pulls the knife from inside her boot and grips the blade between her teeth, setting down her backpack as she does so; she won't be needing it. She ducks down low and strategically places herself behind large trash bins as she runs, because she knows that he can see her if she is out in the open. She keeps to the shadows directly below the building when she reaches it and begins to ascend the thin rungs of the metal ladder._

_She reaches the top and lifts herself up silently so that she is perched on the small ledge on top of the second C in COROCO. She leans down and makes a fist, knocking gently on the door. She pulls back, and in a matter of seconds the door is opened by her target._

_She grips the ledge she is perched on and swings herself into him feet-first so that he is knocked backwards and into the building. She somersaults off of him and across the room, rising from her standing position when she has finished tumbling. He runs at her, as per the majority of people being attacked do. Not away, but towards. Who knew?_

_She expects this, and she grabs his arms, twisting him around and holding his arm behind his back, jerking it up violently as he tries to free himself. She takes her knife in her free hand and stabs it into the back of his neck. He falls to the floor, dead in a matter of seconds._

_She flips him over but avoids looking at his face. She takes the lighter and the flask of gasoline from her jeans pocket and tucks it into the folds of his muddy, cotton shirt. She flicks the lighter, watching the orange flame spring from within, and she sets it next to the flask, backing away as quickly as she can._

_That man knew something about The Caste, some big and important secret that not even she knew, and that is why he had to be killed. It wasn't his fault. He hadn't meant to find out—he hadn't been looking for trouble._

_She sees his face one last time as it is burning—eyes and mouth wide open in fear, shock, and anger, hair falling into his face as it is turned to cinders… and this is what causes her to scream._

I was being shaken. That was the first thing I knew as I came back to my senses. Second, I realized that I was on the couch in the living room, and I vaguely remembered falling asleep there that night after giving the Four Horsemen their fifth lesson in non-magical self-defence. I remembered Jack giving me a nasty bruise on my wrist when he flipped me over his shoulder.

I opened my eyes and found that I was, indeed, correct about my location. The grip on my shoulders lessened but the hands did not move away. I looked up to find Jack Wilder standing over me in the dark, the concern clear in his big, brown eyes.

I didn't say anything to him, just stared at him and felt my own eyes brimming with tears. I tried to blink them away, hoping he couldn't see them in the dark.

"I heard you scream, and I came down to see if you were alright. It's two-thirty in the morning. The rest of them are still asleep," he informed me.

I sat up, and he removed his hands from my shoulders. I rubbed my wrist where he bruised it yesterday afternoon as I glanced around the room, looking anywhere but him, though I could feel his eyes burning holes in the side of my head.

"It was… just a dream." I tried to sound casual, though I could tell I must have sounded like I was speaking after someone punched me in the gut. I hoped he would just pass it off as morning grogginess.

My prayers went unanswered. "I'm not stupid. I can tell it's bothering you. You wanna tell me about it?"

I sighed, knowing that there was no point in avoiding the question. Plus, it would feel good to get it off my chest. Maybe the nightmares would go away.

"It was one of my victims. I keep reliving his death, but I don't know why I've been bothered by it so much."

I could tell he was a little surprised, but he made no move to get up and leave me there to wallow in my guilt.

"Maybe telling someone will help," he said quietly.

I nodded, and scooted closer to him so that I was leaning against him. He casually draped an arm around my shoulder, and I felt him toying with the strands of my long, dark hair. I thought that it would have been more awkward, but instead it felt good to have someone there to comfort me besides my brother. Not even _he_ knew about the nightmares.

I began to tell him the story, and throughout the whole thing he just kept playing with my hair or rubbing my back or squeezing my shoulder comfortingly. I found that by the end of the story, my eyelids were growing heavy and my conscious mind was becoming fuzzy and unclear. I was having trouble forming a coherent sentence, and I just decided to stop talking.

I shifted so that I was lying down with my head in his lap and my feet pulled up onto the couch. I heard him chuckle lightly and I blushed a little, though I blamed this on tiredness. He rested an arm across my stomach, and I was surprised that I didn't flinch or try to get away. I think he was little bit, too.

"Go to sleep, Anastasia," he whispered to me.

I closed my eyes and smiled at him, even though my face wasn't towards him.

"Maggie. You can call me Maggie."

After a moment of silence in which I had already gone almost all the way to sleep, I heard him say one final thing.

"Goodnight then, Maggie."

And for the first time since I ran away from The Caste, I didn't dream about killing The Innocent Man.

* * *

**Eh, you know what I would say down here, so I expect you can imagine it all on your own, but I'll say something anyways.**

**You see the box down there? Here's what you do: type in the message you want to send to me (yes, to ****_me_****) and then you press the button. You see that button? It's really pretty, don't you think? Because I do. And when you press the button, then the message that you typed to me gets magically sent across thousands of wires and computer systems, from state to state or even country to country, and it puts a smile on my face when I find it in my email inbox.**

;D **_So do it!_** ;D

**xxIrisxx**


	11. Chapter 10: Couches

**Too lazy... to write anything up here now... first day of school has really worn me out... gotta go... thanks for readers and reviewers and followers and favoriters... tired... bed is calling me... ;l zzzzzz...**

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**Chapter 10: Couches**

**(Jack's POV)**

It's a very odd feeling to wake up in the middle of the night and realize that you forgot to eat in the last twenty-four hours. Wait, scratch that. It was downright _painful_!

So of course I going to have to get up and walk down all those freakin' stairs just to get to the freakin' kitchen so I can get myself some freakin' food. All the while trying not to wake people up.

I went past Anastasia's room, and I was only vaguely aware that her door was open, which I might have found odd had I not been starving. Hell, I was getting so soft! Since when was I one to complain about being hungry? I had lived on the streets for a long while before the Four Horsemen and the FBI scandal and all that, and I had most definitely been more hungry then than I was now.

Damn this life of luxury.

I snuck down the stairs quietly, stepping strategically over the squeaky fourth step when I reached the bottom—one thing you never leave behind after you're a street kid is being quiet.

I was literally just about to walk through the kitchen doors when I heard a soft whimper. It sounded like it was coming from the living room, but I wasn't really sure. By now fully awake, I decided rather stupidly to wander over and see where the sound came from.

My eyes adjusted the dark quickly when I entered the darkened living room. I couldn't see over the back of the couch, but there was an arm resting over the back. It looked rather feminine, but the nails weren't painted from what I could see—_that's definitely not Henley, then—_and it was then that I recognized the hand. It had flung me around the room and landed me on the floor often enough for me to know it as Anastasia's.

The whimpering started up again, but now that I was closer, it sounded more like unintelligible murmurs. Anastasia's hand twitched before it fell back onto her body that was clearly lying on the couch with a soft _THUD_. She let out a scream when her arm impacted her stomach, causing me to flinch. It wasn't loud enough to wake the others, though—they could sleep through an air raid.

I raced around the side of the couch, cursing to myself as I stubbed my toe in my haste.

I found her lying there, half of her turned on her side and the other half facing up with one arm under her at an uncomfortable angle while the other one was still twitching violently on top of her stomach. It was obvious that she was having a nightmare. I had suffered through enough of those, and I bet hers were probably ten times worst if all that she had told us was true.

I stooped over her sleeping form and gripped her shoulders, shaking gently. I didn't want to surprise her too bad—no use getting slapped or punched when I'm trying to help her.

"Anastasia! Come on, wake up," I whispered urgently.

Her hand stopped twitching and her eyes opened slowly. She looked around a little before her gaze finally rested on me. She didn't do anything, and I was glad to know that she at least recognized me in her hasty wake-up call.

"I heard you scream and I came down to see if you were alright." She needn't know about my being hungry. My stomach growled softly, and I really hoped she didn't notice. I would never hear the end of it from her. "It's two-thirty in the morning. The rest of them are still asleep."

She started to sit up, and I sunk down onto the couch next to her when she pulled her feet up to her body, taking my hands away from her shoulders. She looked around the room, not daring to look into my eyes again, though I was staring at her profile intently.

"It was..." she paused as though she were thinking about her answer, debating on what to tell me. "...just a dream." She tried to pass it off as casual, but I was well aware of how broken and hurt her voice sounded.

"I'm not stupid, I can tell it's bothering you. You wanna tell me about it?"

I never had anybody to tell about my nightmares as a street kid, and I reckoned that she didn't, either. I could at least try and be there for her when nobody as there in my time of need. After all, what goes around comes around, right? Maybe she'd be there for me later, though I doubted it was in her nature to do so.

She sighed, finally giving in. "Maybe telling someone will help," I said to her.

She nodded slightly and scooted as close to me as possible, turning slightly to lean against me. Total Déjà vuhere! I tried to be casual as I lay an arm across her shoulders as she began talking, running her long, thick, dark hair through my fingers, noticing for the first time how soft it was.

"I was on a special mission for The Caste. They told me that I was going to track down this street magician who had accidentally found a vital piece of information that nobody but the boss knew. They told me that if I didn't kill him, my own death would be a thousand times worse than his."

I squeezed her shoulder in comfort and started tracing lazy figure eights on her upper arm, feeling her shiver slightly beneath her black hoodie. I wondered whether it was from the memory or from my actions.

"He was hiding in an abandoned building in New York City. It was an old bakery that had just closed a few years ago that I had gone to every morning before I went to training. I followed him to this ladder, and he started to climb up. He got to the trap door on the outside of the building and went inside before I climbed up after him.

"I stayed up on the edge of the sign for the bakery and knocked on the door. He opened it, and I went down inside after him and knocked him over. He stood up and tried to attack me, but I flipped him around and stabbed him in the back of the neck so it would sever his spinal cord."

_Well, if I wasn't going to throw up from hunger before, I certainly was now._

"I had to destroy his remains. I put a flask of gasoline inside the folds of his jacket and opened it so the fumes would come out. I set the lighter up and put it down next to it. It was terrible, Jack. Watching him burn. He looked like he was still alive... he looked like he was screaming, pleading for me to help him, but I knew he was dead. He didn't do anything wrong, it was just an accident that he found out! I was the one that had to go after him and kill him—I was only fifteen!"

_She was fifteen when they sent her on that mission? What were those bastards thinking?!_

She had stopped talking, and I still hadn't said anything. I didn't trust myself to. She turned herself around and lay herself down with her head on my lap and her feet were pulled up to her chest. I put my arm over her stomach, feeling the muscles flex when I touched her.

She put one arm out in front of her, and I noticed the bruise on her wrist. I remembered training earlier today and I had flipped her over and grabbed her wrist too hard—luckily it wasn't the one she had injured before, or that could have been bad.

"Go to sleep, Anastasia," I finally managed to get out, keeping my anger at bay.

It seemed like ages before she responded to me, but it must have just been seconds.

"Maggie." _What?_ "You can call me Maggie."

She... she wants me to call her the name that nobody but Dylan and Daniel are allowed to call her? And even _they_ don't call her that!

"Goodnight then, Maggie," I whispered.

I was sure she was already asleep, though I could have sworn I felt her smile a little. Evil little devil.

I reached behind to me with my free hand to where a blanket lay draped over the back of the couch. I pulled it down and lay it over her, then tucked a loose strand of pitch-black hair behind her ear.

I guess the midnight snack was going to have to wait.

* * *

**I'll do dedications later... next chapter will be on it's way soon! Now, I really must get some shut-eye before I wake up at freakin' 5:30 tomorrow... UUUUUGGGGHHHH! Oh, and sorry in non-advance for any spelling errors- I'll go back and edit this chapter later when I post the next one. So never fear, and keep a look out for the updated version! Night-night now, y'all!**

**xxIrisxx**


	12. Chapter 11: Sewage

**I can't say I'm sorry enough, so I will just let you read and bask in the glory of a sort of longer chapter!**

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**Chapter 11: Sewage**

**(Anastasia's POV)**

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**Location: Four Horsemen's Mansion, Crows Landing, Florida, USA  
City Population: 248  
Current time: 6:13 am, Eastern  
Current date: July 10, 2013**

I woke up the next morning to find myself curled up in Jack's arms.

_Umm... RED LIGHT! RED LIGHT!_

I relaxed, though, as I recalled what all had happened. Telling him about the dream... him letting me stay on the couch with him for the night... or maybe I made him stay, I didn't entirely remember.

I quietly slipped from his arms and let the blanket fall to the floor around my feet as I stretched. It wasn't that long ago that I had been having nightmares, and here I was, wide awake and hungry for the dinner that I had skipped yesterday night.

I stepped over the blanket and went to the kitchen, but not before I smelled something familiar.

_Pears._

Ha, he wasn't going to fool me that easily. I would have been able to smell that particular scent from a mile away.

"Morning, Black," I sang, skipping the rest of the way into the kitchen and flipping on the lights.

I heard him sigh and saw him melt out of the shadows that the enormous refrigerator was casting over the tile floor. "Damn, I wanted to scare you!"

"Then get a different shampoo. And for your information, just because I've been living the life of luxury doesn't mean that I've forgotten everything I learned. Can't say the same for you, though—the refrigerator? Really?"

He smiled at me sheepishly. "Never could fool you, huh?"

I just smirked as he hopped up onto the island in the middle of the kitchen, watching me grab a hard-boiled egg from the fridge, close the door, and lean against it. I began to peel the egg, letting the bits fall onto the floor before I began to eat it, turning my gaze to him.

"Pick it up, Black."

It was his turn to smirk as eh lifted his fingers and snapped, the egg shell disappearing from the floor and ending up... wherever he put them. I presumed the trash can.

"Dylan told me about your magic, what you could do. I would be making a liar of myself to say I wasn't impressed." I finished the egg and went to wash my hands in the sink, still feeling his eyes tracking me. "Cut to the chase. Why are you here?"

I heard him sigh, and I knew what was coming. I never turned away from the sink, even after the cold water had finished running over my hands and I turned it off to rub them dry on a checkered dish towel.

"The mission." My breath caught in my throat. "The Eye wants the mission done within the month. They say that you can do this however you want to, as long as you keep the Horsemen safe and get the job done."

I finally turned around. "And what, exactly, is the job?" I snapped.

He gave me a disapproving frown. "You already know that, Anastasia. You figured it out on your own, I know you did. You can't lie to me—I can still see right through you."

Damn this man and his stupid antics. Why did he have to know me so well? Damn.

"Yeah, you caught me, Black." I sighed. "I knew that it was probably going to come to this when you first came to me up on the rooftop, but now that I'm here..." I trailed off, biting my lip and looking at my bare feet.

I heard him slide down off the counter and come towards me. He placed his shoes so that the tips were touching my toes before putting an arm around my waist and pulling my chin up so I was looking into his brown eyes.

"You can't back out now, you know that? You agreed to do this not for The Eye, but for Dylan. And now I'm asking you to do it for him, and the Horsemen, and all the other magicians out there that The Caste has and will kill. Please, Anastasia. Do it for me."

I had never heard him speak with so much sincerity before. Throughout his little speech, his head had been inching down, down, down towards my own, and a million little red lights went off again in my head. Many, many more than this morning when I found myself in Jack's arms after four hours of sleep.

"Black..." he froze, his lips just centimeters away from mine. "... we've been over this, Black. You know I don't..."

He leaped away from me at the sound of soft footsteps coming from the living room. Well, I guess Jack was awake. Wait a second. Had Black and I just had a moment? OK, this day was officially weird with a capitol 'W'.

Jack waltzed his way into the kitchen, stopping in his tracks when he saw Black.

"Who the hell are you?" he questioned, a very comical look on his face. Oh, right. They had never met. Whoops! I tried to remember if I was always this slow in the mornings. I guess that just proved it, if I couldn't remember.

"Jack, can we do introductions later? I know him, he's a friend. Get the others, please?"

He looked back and forth from me to Black before sighing and walking up the stairs to their rooms, grumbling the whole way about how early it was and how Henley was probably going to slap him.

"I have a first name, you know," Black whispered softly.

I turned around in surprise. "I know."

"Then why don't you use it? I've always called you Anastasia."

"Against protocol, yes, I'm well aware. If I were going to call you anything other than your last name, it would be 'Junior'. Don't ask me why, cause I don't know, other than that your dad was my boss."

He seemed to take this as an acceptable answer, though he still looked a little hurt. Why? I would never know.

He opened his mouth to say something more to me, and I knew that look all too well. Oh, good grief, he wanted to talk to me about... _feelings_. We had talked about this before, and I thought I had been pretty clear that I would never like him that way, but Black was not one to give up easily. Most of the time. Luckily, I was saved. More or less.

"ANASTASIA SHRIKE, WHEN I COME DOWNSTAIRS, YOU ARE SO GOING TO GET IT!"

I bust out laughing as I heard feet pounding down the wooden stairs. Of course I knew that Henley would be mad, but it was more hilarious than scary. So hilarious, in fact, that I was rolling on the floor laughing by the time she got all the way downstairs. I couldn't see her through the tears in my eyes, but I could only imagine that she must have looked like the Devil's spawn.

"How can you think this is funny, huh? Is this some sick joke?" She must have finally noticed Black. "Oh, good lord, there's another man in a suit! Let's just call the FBI and tell 'em our exact location, why don't we? 'Hey, we're here, anytime you want to come and arrest us!' This is NOT funny, Anastasia! It is six o'clock in the freaking morning!"

I just couldn't seem to stop laughing as the other three made their way downstairs.

"Who's screaming?"

"Why is so _early_?"

"Who's he?"

"Oh, will you all just SHUT UP!" I screamed, still trying to contain laughs.

I heaved myself off the floor, only to collapse onto Black again when I saw the state of the Four Horsemen. They looked like they had all been put through the drying machine then trampled over by a heard of cows. With the exception of Jack, of course, who was laughing along with me, although he looked a little roughed up, too. Probably from trying to wake up Merritt, Henley and Daniel.

"Do you guys always look this funny in the morning, or is it just me?" I laughed.

"I'll second that. Anybody feeling particularly diva-ish right now, because I've _got_ to send this to Dylan!" Black said.

They all turned to stare at him, seeing as how he was holding me up and I was still laughing and they didn't know him.

I finally managed to contain myself and wiped tears from my eyes as I straightened and put an arm around his back and slinging it over one shoulder. He in turn put one arm around my waist. I saw both Jack's and Daniel's eyes widen then narrow in quick succession. Can you say _jealous_?

"Everyone, this is Black—that's his last name, that is." I felt Black stiffen a little at this comment, but I continued as though I hadn't noticed. "Black, you already know all of them, so..."

"Of course, the famous Four Horsemen! The pleasure is all mine, gentleman and lady," Black said, bowing his head to each of them.

Merritt was the first to speak, eying him up and down and putting his fingers to his head. "You worked for The Caste, am I right? Anastasia's trainer, correct?" Black nodded and smiled. "You taught her well. And dare I ask how you two are... status-wise?"

He gestured to our stance, though I could tell by the sparkle in his eyes that he already knew all about it. I dug my fingernails into Black's shoulder, warning him not to say anything.

"He's a good friend, and I owe him one or two times for saving my life. But you already knew that, didn't you, Merritt?"

He smirked at me. "Damn, you're a hard girl to fluster."

Henley was the next to recover. "Alright, so if you didn't come here for Anastasia, then why are you here?"

I looked down swiftly, pulling away from Black and retreating to a stool on one side of the island, letting my elbows rest on the counter and my head fall into my hands.

Black looked over at me before he spoke again. "To tell you about your mission. If I were you, I'd call Dylan, tell him to get his ass down here quick."

888

Before I knew it, there were more people in the house than I really wanted there to be. Especially when we were all seated around the kitchen table.

Black and I sat at one end while Merritt was at the other. To my left were Henley and Daniel and to my right were Dylan and Alma. Alma was very nice to me despite everything, and I figured that it was Dylan's doing, otherwise she probably would have me arrested and in FBI custody by now. She told me that she was visiting from France and that she wouldn't be here long, but she was happy to meet me. We had a long conversation in French, because of course I knew how to speak fluently in at least seven different languages besides my own (Mandarin, Hindi, Spanish, Russian, Arabic, French, and Bengali).

We now sat around the table, Black and Dylan (mostly Black) alternating speaking as they told about the mission. Alma was in on it to, apparently, because she knew most of the plan and had told me that The Caste had set up a base in France. Wow, so he really was branching out. Now we had bases in six parts of the United States, two in China, one in Mexico, one in Russia, one somewhere in the Middle East, one in Australia and, apparently, now one in France. And those were only the ones that I knew about. A lot can change in five years.

"Anastasia, can you remember what HQ looks like? He won't have changed the basics, though I imagine the codes are different since we escaped," Black said to me.

I nodded, closing my eyes and trying to imagine it. Not that I would ever really forget it, after growing up there for sixteen years. I put a hand on the table, and soon it became a full-scale set of blueprints for The Caste's Headquarters.

"Great job, Anastasia," Dylan whispered, putting a hand on my shoulder. I smiled at him as I took it in, proud of myself.

"Alright, so there are many different ways to get into HQ. There's one down an old, dark alleyway seven blocks east of Brooklyn Bridge. It's guarded by what looks like an old homeless man, but his little hut is set up right on top of the trap door and he's a spy that could kill you with a pair of headphones.

"Then here, along the side of Holland Tunnel. Nobody but the spies who have underwater missions use this one because it's hard to get to unless you have the proper gear and/or training. There's another one in the piping on the roof of Penn Wine and Spirits by Penn Station that you can get to if you take the latter in the back room. One of the employee's there is a spy, and he takes people back there if they need to get in."

"Why do we need to know all of these, if you don't mind me asking?" Jack questioned.

Black sent him a death glare and looked ready to strangle the kid, but I pulled on my earlobe twice, signaling him to stand down.

"Because if you need to get out and you find your way to one of these entrances, then you'll be able to know where you are and get out faster," I answered for him.

Black nodded curtly, then continued to tell them about ten of the other entrances. That barley even scratched the surface. Each member of The Caste used a different entrance, and there were more than enough of them so that nobody had to share.

I told them all this. "Mine is in the back of what looks like an old, run-down gas station. Everybody could use any one of the doors, though, because the security people know everyone, and you can scan your Band to get in... if it hasn't been discontinued. When someone is removed from The Caste, then the Band is shocked so that it can't be used anymore. This usually results in the person being paralyzed in their arm, but nobody ever said that being discontinued was the nice way to let people out of The Caste."

"She's right. The only way that you can stop a discontinuation is to turn off your Band with the Band Code, like Anastasia and I did when we escaped, but if we turn them back on, they'll be notified and would probably do it then," Black said.

We continued on like this for some time, talking about ways in and ways out until Merritt was finally smart enough to ask the essential question.

"If we can't get in from any one of the entrances that you've told us about, then how are we going to get in?"

Black turned to me (it was _my_ plan, after all) and I smirked.

"Sewage."

Every last person in the room stared at me like I was insane. They soon were voicing their disdain, as well.

"Are you insane?"

"You want us to get into the Headquarters through the _sewage_?"

"Why?"

"Ah, see, someone's finally asking the right questions! Mr. Wilder, ten points for Gryffindor." He smiled at my little reference, like he always did when I made them. "Since The Caste knew every other way to get into HQ, I made my own way in. I figured that all the sewage had to go _somewhere_ when it went down a sink or wherever from HQ, so I went up to Newton Creek Wastewater Treatment inside the city because I knew this was where it all went. It was too easy to sneak in, really, with all my training, so I went down below to where all the sewage came in.

"I found a newer tunnel where everything was coming from, and a little farther ways away, there was an older one that had been marked with a lot of 'DO NOT ENTER' signs and such. But I went in anyways, because I knew it was just an old tunnel that had gone out of use when they built the new one that functioned better.

"It was amazing, really. It was still a little wet for the first few feet from rain and such, but it was dry once you got into it. Of course it still stank, but that was beside the point. It was a tunnel down the middle with two sidewalk like paths down either side of it. The center gap was at least twenty feet deep, and I guessed that this was were all the sewage came through and the people would walk along the sides to inspect and what not.

"When I got farther down the tunnel, I noticed that it branched off to one side, but it wasn't another gap—it was just the sidewalk. I followed it, and it dead-ended. Well, I thought it did, but that was when I noticed that there was a handle on the bottom of the metal end. Being the ever-curious girl that I was, I lifted it up and followed it... and I found that it went straight to a ladder that went right into the bathrooms at The Caste. Of course, it was the guys bathroom, but I realized then that it was the Haunted Bathroom, as we called it. All the sinks had exploded once, and then the plumbing never worked again after that, so nobody used the bathrooms anymore."

"So _that's_ how we're going to get into The Caste? Won't the security cameras notice us?" Henley asked, sounding disgusted.

I leaned towards her. "Ah, but you see, I was a genius little girl and turned off the cameras in there so that I could use the bathroom as my secret entrance and exit without them knowing unless they were tracking me on the GPS at the moment. That tunnel goes to all sorts of places in New York City, and you can come up in all sorts of bathrooms, so I could get practically anywhere I wanted to!"

It took a minute for this all to sink in, and I certainly wasn't expecting their reactions.

Of course, because this is the Four Horsemen, members of The Eye and one of their French girlfriends that we're talking about, they all burst out laughing. I soon joined in with all of them, just for the hell of it. It may be the last group laugh we get in a long time, even if this mission goes according to plan. The future looked grim, and the way it turned out was waiting right in front me like warm clay, and I was the one who was going to shape it into a lovely vase or a splat of brown on the floor.

* * *

**There, did that sort-a-kinda make up for it? Well, I hope so. I will try to get back to you as soon as possible, but school has been kicking my ass recently... well, good news is that I just got into the Fall Play! I'm so excited- rehearsals start on Monday, so wish me G-O-O-D L-U-C-K! Ha, you theater people know why I had to spell it out, don't you. Ah, ever the superstitious ones, we theater folk.**

**xxIrisxx**


	13. Chapter 12: Throwing Knives

**Sorry for the wait! Hope y'all like this one. It was sort of a filler chapter, and the next one will be sort of the same, but I think you'll like it better than this one! Thank you for all the kind reviews and follows and favorites! Love to you all!**

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**Chapter 12: Throwing Knives**

**(Anastasia's POV)**

**Location: Four Horsemen's Mansion, Crows Landing, Florida, USA  
City Population: 248  
Current time: 7:02 pm, Eastern  
Current date: July 10, 2013**

Now was not a time that I wanted to have any sort of meaningful, emotional, heart-to-heart talk. With anybody. In fact, when did I ever want to have that kind of talk? With anybody?!

I was up in my room, looking through my bag, decided what needed to go, what I needed to keep, and what new stuff I needed. The Horsemen were out doing something outside of town, and I really didn't care, because Black was with them.

"Giving you a break, Anastasia. You sure as hell need it," he had said to me as he walked out the door. Eh, who was I to turn down an offer like that.

Guns? Check. Ammo? Check. Black clothes? Check. Badass set of throwing knives? Double check. Triple check. Ah, me and my throwing knives.

I heard Dylan walk into the room and lean against the door frame, watching me. I just pretended not to notice him, though I doubt he fell for it. I pulled a knife set out of my worn bag and turned to the wooden panel I had leaned against the wall away from my bed. I fanned the knives out in my hand and began flicking them into the wood.

"What do you want, Dylan?"

_Whoosh-THUD._

"Nothing. Just wanted to see how you were doing."

_Whoosh-THUD._

"I'm fine, Big Brother. You sure you weren't just missing me?"

_Whoosh-THUD._

"What's up with you and Jack?"

Cue shocked face and slice in finger from misdirected knife. I dropped the rest of the knives on my bed and held my bleeding hand.

"Damn, Dylan! Why'd you have to do that?"

I hissed in pain as he stepped forwards and took my hand in his own. "I didn't. I asked a question and you sliced yourself with a knife. If it was that easy to get you to pay attention to me, then I would have started doing that a long time ago!"

"Son of a bitch, you've only known me for a month," I breathed. He produced a navy blue cloth in his fist and began to dab away at the blood gently. The gash was pretty deep, but nothing I couldn't handle. I bit my lip to keep from kicking him. I wasn't used to people cleaning my wounds. Caring about my personal welfare. He seemed to notice.

"Not used to it, hmm?" I didn't say anything or look at him, just continued watching him wrap the cloth around my open palm. "So, what _is_ going on with you and Jack? He obviously likes you, and not just in that 'I look up to her because she's a badass assassin' sort of way. Tell me you haven't noticed, Anastasia."

Oh, I'd noticed all right. "I haven't noticed."

He snorted and yanked on the bandage. I didn't flinch away but finally snapped my head up to look him in the eye. He was smirking down at me, which annoyed me a hell of a lot more than it should have.

"Yeah, you haven't noticed. Uh-huh." He tied the two corners of the navy cloth together and tugged on them a little. "You like him, and you know it, Anastasia. It may not be clear to anybody else, but I can tell."

"Apparently so can Black, but both of you are wrong. I don't like him—he's just a kid that I have to protect on this mission, and that's all he is to me. Even if I _did_ like him, I couldn't. I'm an assassin, Dylan. A monster with no heart that's been beaten down to the bone with the same command drilled into my head: kill, kill, and kill."

I snatched my hand away and turned away from him to look out the window, but my view was soon blocked by his stubbly face at exactly eye-level with mine. He was kneeling in front of me on the bed, and his hands were on my shoulders. I sighed and rolled my eyes up to the ceiling.

"You are anything _BUT_ a monster, Anastasia Shrike. You are a good person, and you most definitely have a heart. Quit telling yourself you don't, because both you and I know that you're lying to yourself." I made no move to look at him, but also no move to get away. "Look into my eyes and tell me you don't feel something. Tell me, right now."

He put his calloused thumb on my chin and pulled my head down so that I was staring into his chocolate eyes. Not like Jack's. Darker. I don't know how he did it, but maybe it was that 'I'm your big brother—you can't hide anything from me' sort of thing going on, but he seemed to know exactly how to manipulate me into telling him anything.

"Ugh, fine! Maybe I do think he's attractive! Maybe I've noticed that he likes me, and maybe I've noticed that I maybe sort of like him, too! I don't know, Dylan, what do you want me to say? I. Can't. Like. Him! When this mission is over and The Caste is gone, I don't know what to do with my life—I can't remember a time that I haven't been on the run since I was sixteen years old. I don't know what a 'normal life' is like, but I have to find one, because when this mission is over, I'm leaving. I'm going off to go get a job, make some money. Buy a car, an apartment. Hell, I might go stay in London! How can I be attached to someone when I don't even know what to do with the rest of my life? Tell me that!"

He looked shocked, but he didn't miss a beat, though his voice was a bit quieter. "Maybe being attached to someone will help you decide what to do with your life." He took his hands off my shoulders and pushed me backwards so that he could stand in front of me. "I found you after all these years, and now you're going to leave? I can't just let you go again, not after that. You're my sister, and it's my job to look after you."

I scoffed. "Oh, because you did a great job of that when I was alone in an assassin's training program for sixteen years. What makes you think you can do it now?"

"I don't know!" he shouted. "I don't know. What makes you think you'd be better off alone?"

"Alone is what I am. Alone is what protects me."

"No, friends protect people. Friends and family and the strangers out there in the town. People that know you for what you are, and people who judge you by your actions, not by outward appearances."

I didn't know what to say, but I had to think of something, fast. I wasn't one to be caught speechless, and certainly not in a talk like this. "Well, I'll keep looking for people like that. Better yet, if you find some, introduce them to me. Who knows? Maybe I'll like them."

I was out of my room in less than two seconds. Dylan didn't follow, but I secretly wished he had.

* * *

**Ha, did y'all catch the Sherlock reference in there? Who's excited for season 3 coming out in October? Eek, I am! I'm so excited that I just went up to my room and drank three (non-diet) Cokes and wrote y'all another chapter!**

**As always, R&R**

**xxIrisxx**


	14. Chapter 13: Play Fighting

**Thanks again to all my lovely readers, and I hope this chapter makes up for some (at least one) of the long waits. Special shout out to some of my reviewers for the past two chapters:**

**Eponine (Guest)**

**musicluver246**

**AnonymousGrey (Guest)**

**xxTheChocoholic14xx**

**Star (Guest)**

**athousandroses**

** .x23**

**Thank you all for reviewing: each and every one made my day! :D**

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**Chapter 13: Play Fighting**

**(Anastasia's POV)**

**Location: Four Horsemen's Mansion, Crows Landing, Florida, USA  
City Population: 248  
Current time: 11:09 pm, Eastern  
Current date: July 11, 2013**

"Black, fight me."

"What?"

"I _said_ 'Black, fight me.'"

"I heard what you said."

"OK, then what's the problem?"

"I'm not gonna fight you!" He shouted at me.

The Four Horsemen were in the living room with us, although they were watching TV. From where they were and what I was seeing, I was guessing they were about a quarter of the way through The Phantom of the Opera. Why I wasn't watching it, I have no idea, because I love that musical—I worship it, in fact—but I was behind the couch, insisting that Black fight me. The Horsemen ought to know what a _real_ fight (non-magic, that is) would look like.

"Why not?"

"Because..." I smirked at him when he couldn't find a reason, knowing exactly what would get on his nerves.

"Gone soft, have we? All that time out of The Caste, training people to kill... went directly to your head, did it? The freedom?"

"Shut up, Anastasia."

My smile widened—I win. I always win. The Horsemen by now had paused the movie right in the middle of the scene where Erik lays Christine down on his little boat thing and turned around to face us. I've always wondered why he has a bunch of pillows of on it—it's not like he was sleeping in it, was he? Jack was sitting on the back of the couch facing us, Henley was sitting on the arm while Daniel and Merritt were keeping their distances from one another and sitting on opposite sides of the couch. Daniel, of course, being closer to Henley.

I began to unclasp the thin, black bands from around my wrists, each one decorated with various pendants. A skull, a heart, the letter A, and a strip of metal tied into a bow. I threw them at Jack and I saw him catch them out of the corner of my eye. Black was taking off his black jacket and threw it towards a window. We both stepped out of our shoes and kicked them out of the way.

"Ready?"

I didn't give him time to answer, but it's not like I needed to.

I took a step forwards and tried to nail him with and expert kick of my bare foot, but he blocked it with equally expert ease. He still held my leg as I swiped a quick punch on him, missing his head when he ducked and let go of my foot, but coming down and landing him in the stomach instead. I delivered several more blows that he dodged in easy succession, but each one drove him farther back across our fighting plain. The last punch I sent he blocked with his arm, and his other fist came up to hit me square in the jaw. I opened my mouth and felt the pain spur then die down, turning away and holding my jaw as if it were agonizing.

Black immediately ran to my aid, coming up by side. "Staci, you alright? I didn't mean that..."

A little cat grin crept its way up onto my face. To anyone who knew me, that meant trouble. I lifted my head slightly to peer at Jack, who was about to come and get me as well. I sent him a little wink, to which he responded with a very confused expression.

I brought my leg up in a high arc, catching my unsuspecting opponent on his shoulder. He grunted in pain as I stood up straight, regaining a good posture. He tried to compose himself at the same rate that I had, but apparently I was right about him going soft. He was out of practice, and this made him slow.

I delivered another high kick to his shoulder, then got down and balanced my weight on my hands, swinging around my leg to swipe his feet out from under him. He landed on the carpeted floor with a loud _THUD _and a grunt. He put hi hand to protect himself while he sucked air back into his lungs. I heard several "oohs" and sympathetic hisses from our four-person audience.

I stood up slowly and sauntered over to him, grazing my fingertips over his outstretched hand. His head snapped up to meet my gaze, his eyes begging me not to hurt him.

"No, no, no, Staci..."

"You _have_ gone soft, haven't you, Black?"

I grabbed his hand and put my face down to it, trailing my lips over his palm slowly, pushing my nose into it gently as I went. He smiled up at me in surprise, but both of ours faded when I bent his wrist backwards, hearing it crack in discomfort. He yelled out in surprise, and I pulled his arm upwards and he rose off the floor as I did so, trying to take off some of the pressure. He pulled his hand free and made a grab from my right shoulder, pulling me towards him, but I spun away from him easily across the floor.

I smirked at him as we were reduced to a short staring contest from seven feet away from each other. I knew damn well that he was holding back (even if he was still a little slow on the draw) because never in his right mind would he allow me to win a fight with an audience around to watch us. I knew he was, but I didn't know why.

"You're going to get yourself hurt, Anastasia," he said to me.

My grin widened and I responded in an Irish accent. "Not if you can help it, I won't. Isn't that right?"

I squared my shoulders in acceptance of his challenge, then bolted forwards when he tried to reason with me. "Anastasia—" He was cut short by me landing a solid kick his shoulder, then lifting my other foot not a millisecond later and landing another one to his stomach, though it wasn't nearly as hard. He staggered backwards then, and I could see that things were about to change by the way his eyes seemed to say 'Okay, no more Mr. Nice Guy.'

I went back to hit him again, but he was faster and grabbed both my wrists, wrestling them behind my back and pulling me flush up against him. I smirked, but it faltered when I realized his head was coming down to meet my own. I had the strangest sense of Déjà vu as those same million red flags went off in my head.

"No," I stated simply, digging my heel into one foot and kicking the opposite ankle with the other. He release my wrists and threw me down onto the floor. He looked like he was about to walk away, but I was _not_ about to let him leave when neither of us had one.

I rocked back and brought my legs up, crossing my ankles behind his neck that was still stooped over me from throwing me down. I pulled him down sideways and onto his back, flipping over so that I was sitting on him. I scrambled to pull my legs back and straddling his stomach and pinning his hands above his head.

My hair had come out of it's ponytail and cascaded down over my shoulders, brushing his face and his hands. He tried to move, but I pushed him down harder onto the floor. I knew he could easily have flipped me, but he had gone back to his original state of reluctance to let himself win.

He sighed in defeat and I stood up triumphantly, pulling my hair back behind my head once again, smoothing it out. I helped him up when I was done, straightening out his shirt a little and brushing off imaginary dirt.

"That, good people, is how a real fight looks," Black addressed the Horsemen.

I began to walk over to the kitchen, breathing hard, deeply needing a glass of cold water. "Almost, Black. Don't you ever, _ever_ let me win again. Now, me beating you is an entirely different story."

This earned a chuckle from everyone else in the room with the exception of Jack, I noticed. I continued on my way to the kitchen, hearing the array of voices behind me.

"Well, as exciting as that was, I think I'll be the old man here and take leave up to my bedroom," I heard Merritt say.

"Yeah, I'm heading up, too. It's 11:30, and I have shopping to do in the morning before the rush hits." Oh, good God, Henley went shopping every single Saturday, and it never ceased to amaze me how many clothes she could bring back. I didn't even want to imagine her closet.

"I've got to be getting home. Long drive, you know?" That was Black. "Goodnight, Anastasia! Tell you what, I won't hold back on you next time, deal?"

"Deal!" I called back.

"Well, I'm off to bed, too. See you all in the morning!" Daniel shouted a bit too loudly. "You coming, Jack?"

"Yeah, I'll be right behind you. Just gonna grab a midnight snack," the boy in question replied.

I heard sounds of approval from the other three Horsemen, the front door slam shut and the lock click, then six feet tromping up the stairs to their respective rooms.

I leaned against the counter as I filled my tall glass with water from the sink. I was never one to use the little refrigerator thing, and I only ever got my ice from inside, never from the tube. Eh, I can be weird however I want.

I turned around when I heard Jack walking towards me. He stopped and leaned against the door frame and watched me as I sipped the water from my glass. He was the first one to break the silence.

"So... you and Black, huh?" I noted the hurt in his quiet voice.

I nearly did a spit take. "Why does everybody think that? First Dylan, now you!"

"Well, it's an obvious conclusion to draw from the way you two dance around each other!"

"No, it's not. He's had this cute little kindergarten crush on me since I was twelve, but I never, _ever_ like him back. I only use it against him; blackmailing him and stuff. It's also a great weakness for him when we're fighting." I paused to think for a moment. "Besides, why would you care?"

He didn't say anything, and I nodded in understanding before looking down at my glass and swirling it around, watching the water twist and turn around the edges.

I didn't hear him come up in front of me. I only noticed him when he put his hands on either side of the counter behind me and leaning against my inclined body. I looked up, startled, looking up into his chocolate eyes. I was never considered a very tall person, but I was about average height. Even so, he was a good four or five inches taller than me.

My conversation with Dylan yesterday came back to me.

_Look into my eyes and tell me you don't feel something. Tell me, right now._

I was right, Jack's eyes _were_ lighter than Dylan's. They were like... I couldn't even compare them to anything. Maybe Mexican Chocolate. Yeah, that was it.

Dylan was also right. I felt something. I hadn't been lying when I said that to him, even if I tried to convince myself that I was. Every time I saw him, my stomach did little flips and my head felt ten times lighter than it had before when he spoke to me, or when he touched me. What was wrong? I was strong, stronger than this... this... feeling. I didn't know what to call it.

'Stirrings. No, no, not quite all the way to _feelings_...' Damn, I didn't need Pirates of the Caribbean quotes floating around in my head right now.

"Jack..." I whispered.

I may have been strong in the sense that I could fight, but when it came to this boy standing in front of me, I wasn't anything more than an emotional twenty-one-year-old. And it annoyed the hell out of me.

I didn't have time to do anything, though, because before I knew it, he was taking my water glass from my hand and setting it down beside me on the counter, then pulling me towards him by the waist. I brought my hands up to hold onto his arms, because I think that may have been the only thing holding me up right now.

Damn this boy and his ability to make me wilt. Damn this boy and his tender grip. Damn this boy and everything about him that is making my stomach do swan dives.

I couldn't think anymore once his lips were one mine. They were soft and warm, exactly as I had imagined them to be. Not to be. No, I hadn't been imagining them, not at all. It wasn't long before I started to kiss back, and I would be a lying fool to say that I didn't want to. I dragged my arms up and they found their own way around his neck, his grip tightening on my waist, which was by now all the way off the counter.

The need to breathe became too much, and we both pulled back for air, breathing heavily.

It took a few moments to process before I realized that this was wrong. It hadn't felt wrong before: in fact, it had been perfect. More so than I could ever imagine. Neither of us let go of the other one when I spoke softly.

"I can't, Jack."

"Why not?" The hurt was even more profound than before.

"Because I can't be attached to someone. I'm just not that sort of person. After this is all over, I have to leave. I don't know where I'll go or what I'll do, but I can't stay here. This is your life, and I can't be in it."

"No, no. You can't leave! What about all of us? Don't do that to Dylan, or to Black." I could tell it pained him to say his name. "Don't do that to me. You feel something, don't you? Look into my eyes and tell me you don't feel something, nothing at all."

What am I supposed to say to that? "I don't know what I feel, Jack. I like you, and I don't want to lose you, but I also don't want you to get hurt."

"If you leave, you're going to hurt me more than think you are."

For once in my life, I was left speechless. I couldn't think of anything to say. I stepped back from him and he reluctantly let me go. I shook my head.

"No, it won't. Just forget all this. Forget it ever happened, forget I said anything. I can't stay here with you all. We'll finish this mission, and then I'll be gone. It'll be like I was never here. You'll all forget me, and that's the way it should be, okay?"

He didn't say anything, and I stepped around him, walking with heavy feet towards the stairs to go up to my room. When I reached the doorway, I heard him whisper;

"How could I ever forget you?"

But I don't think I was meant to hear it.

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**Thank again, and please feel obliged to R&R! Oh, and sorry for the screwy font sizing. I don't know what's wrong with right now, but it's getting on my nerves!**

**xxIrisxx**


	15. Chapter 14: Come Out, Come Out

**I have no excuse; I am so so so so so so so so sorry for not updating sooner! Thanks to all the people who will stick with me as I continue to write this story: I promise that I will ****_not _****abandon it. It will get finished, because I could never do that to all my lovely readers! Again, sorry. And, without further ado: **

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**Chapter 14: Come Out, Come Out**

**(Anastasia's POV)**

******Location: Four Horsemen's Mansion, Crows Landing, Florida, USA  
City Population: 248  
Current time: 7:34 am, Eastern  
Current date: July 12, 2013**

I didn't sleep at all for the rest of the night, and it wasn't because sleep to me was basically dreams of Hell. In all sorts of ways, shapes in forms, it always was.

No, tonight it was because of a certain boy just a story beneath my own two silently pacing feet. I had begun to get dizzy a while ago from all the turning I was doing, but I was too confused to give in to my spinning head. I paced and I paced and I paced all through the night, remembering the feel of his lips on mine, his hands around my waist, mine around his neck...

But I was right to run away, for once. Never before had I felt this way about anyone; and though it pained me to admit it, I was scared. More so than sleeping, dreaming, killing one more person. Any of those would be easier than going down to face this boy and tell him that I actually _felt_ something for him.

I didn't notice the sun streaking through the blinds until they hit my eyes and I squinted at the bright light. Damn, I really had been pacing all night. Que heavy sigh. Well, time for me to head downstairs and into a living hell. Now it was pouring over into my real life. Great.

The stairs creak only once as I stepped down them quietly, now in black leggings and a dark gray tank top. I was pulling my hair into a ponytail as I walk into the kitchen, not thinking at all.

I stopped in my tracks and looked around, breathing out slowly when I realized nobody is there. Well, at least not the one person I really couldn't stand to see right now. Henley was there, sitting on the table instead of in a chair and staring at me expectantly as she sipped a mug of what I assumed was an iced mocha.

"You're up early," I yawned over at her, going to the fridge to grab a beer. Damn, I really need that in the mornings.

"You're up late. And since when do you drink beer in the mornings?"

"Since I got here, actually. Guess you were never up to notice."

I cracked it open and took a swig, hopping up onto the island in the middle of the kitchen and staring back at her. We stayed like that for who-know-how-long before I looked away and out the window, watching the bluebird outside start to build a nest in a tree. Ugh, now I have to hear birds calling in the moring? That's just not fair.

"Sooo... what's up with you and Black?"

I groaned and leaned back, turning myself so that I was lying stretched out across the end of the counter. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing, and that is the end of that. Nobody needs to know more, nobody needs to think more—"

She cut me off, which I had come to recognize as a habit of hers, though I had managed to learn to deal with it. "Well, I'm glad of that," _WHAT?! _"because I think Jack would be disappointed." _Oh, that makes more sense. Wait... what?!_

"Why on earth would you think that?" I asked her, turning my head to look at her.

"Oh, please. I spent a year running away from the FBI with him. I think that's a long enough time to get to know him. He can be so closed-up when he wants to be, but most of time you can just see right through him. It's easy enough to tell that he likes you, Anastasia."

I looked back up at the ceiling, studying the little white dots. "How could he? I'm a savage."

"You are _not_ a savage," she insisted. "You're helping us, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but only by shutting down the organization that trained me. I was brought up to think that killing people was normal! I murdered people for a living, and I never though about getting out until I had been with them for sixteen years."

By now, I was back in my original position, swigging beer and relishing in the feel of the burn down my throat.

"Come on! You obviously felt guilty about taking another person's life, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," I whisper-yelled. "Every time I saw their faces as the life was being sucked out of them, it was like torture in and of itself. They all said something to me before they died. Mostly they were pleas of innocence, telling me that they hadn't done anything. But the ones that really stuck with me were the ones that asked me to say goodbye. They told me that their husband or their wife, brother or sister, mother or father was out there somewhere and would miss them, and that they would want to know that they had thought of them in their final moments.

"This one woman, I remember, was the hardest to kill. Every last one of her final words, I remember. She said to me; 'My little girl. Tell my little girl that I said goodbye. She's back at home right now, watching TV, and I want you to tell her that I said goodbye. Tell her I'll see her again someday, and that it won't seem like very long. Tell her that Mommy found her favorite blanket. It was up in the attic, in the white box with all the rest of her toys. She was so worried about that blanket, and all that time it was just right above her head, up in the attic. You tell her I love her, and that I'll never stop loving her, even when I'm gone.' And you know what I did?"

Henley shook her head. "You still killed her?"

"A fate worse than death is what awaits the ones that don't kill their prey. I killed her, and right then and there, I sat down and wrote that little girl a letter and told her where her blanket was, and that her mommy still loved her, and that she would meet her again someday soon. I folded it up and I put it through her mail slot. When I got back to HQ, I got electrocuted to the point that I couldn't walk for a week. And the whole time, I thought about that little girl."

Henley seemed oddly calm. I, however, was the one with two salty tears streaking down my right cheek. I chugged the last of the bottle and licked the tears away when they came close enough to my mouth.

The redhead stared at me with her big doe eyes (why are everyone's eyes brown?!) and spoke, without a waver present. "And you call that being a savage? Even though killed a woman, you wrote her daughter a letter and took the punishment for it, the entire time thinking about her. You know what I call that? Selflessness. You put that little girl before yourself."

She had a point, but for every point someone makes, there is a counter. "And that's what I'm doing here. I'm putting myself out on the line to protect you while I get this job done, and then once I'm gone, your lives will be so much easier without me here."

She just shook her head and sighed, frowning, looking away once again. "Whatever floats your boat, Anastasia. Whatever floats your boat."

I looked after her as she slid from the table and out of the room, mug in hand, still sipping on it. How can she do that?

"What's that supposed to mean?" I called down the hallway, but she shook her head again and waved a hand dismissively in my direction.

Phf, gingers. _South Park_ was correct—they have no souls.

It doesn't take long for me to realize that my phone is ringing to break me out of my train of thought. I pick it up slowly, as though it were a bomb. Why? Don't ask. I read the number just as the remaining three Horsemen make their way into the kitchen: Daniel, Merritt, Jack. I vaguely notice the latter is slightly more hesitant to enter, but I don't have much time when I realize that I don't know the number.

It's not a sales call—it's coming from Crows Landing, Florida. I don't even begin to assess the situation before my finger drags across the SILDE TO ANSWER bar and I bring the phone up to my ear.

Henley has walked back into the room upon hearing my phone ring, because it never does. All four of them give me questioning looks, and I shot them one of confusion back.

"Who be you?" I said into the phone.

"Oh, you know who it is, Anastasia." The deep gravely voice that I know all too well speaks back to me. "Why don't you come outside and play?"

I bit the inside of my lip as I walked to the window, peering through the blinds outside. Nothing. "Oh, I don't know about that. It sounds a little... dangerous." I heard the others coming up behind me, but I shooed them away from the windows towards the center of the room.

I heard him laugh. "It always is, isn't it? Just come on out, my dear, and nothing will happen to your friends."

"Well, I would, but I'm afraid I can't find you. Nobody said anything about Hide-and-Seek."

"I'm right outside, dearest. Now do come out and play. It's oh-so-boring with just these motley crew. And besides, I've got a very special someone who would just _love_ to see you again."

I glared, even though I knew he couldn't see it. "You show me yours, I'll show you mine."

"That's not that way it works, Anastasia. Come to the front door, love."

I growled into the phone, turning to the Horsemen. _STAY HERE,_ I wrote on the table and point to it. They stare at it and back at me, only to find that I had already gone.

The door creaked open slowly, myself being all too careful in these sorts of situations. We're dealing with _him_, after all.

There he was. The Devil himself, leaning against the car and smoking a pipe, his black shades pressed up against his eyes. His hair was much grayer now that it had been five years ago, and he seemed a little more wrinkled around the face. He may have been short, but I forgotten how much his ego added to his height. He carried himself like a king; and that he was, to The Caste and anyone else who was unlucky enough to know him.

"Ah, there you are! I was afraid I would never find you! You always were the best at hiding—now it's your turn to seek. Let's see how long it takes, dearest."

I hit the end button my phone rather harshly when I began to speak. "You've gotten old, Diablo. You may not have too many places to hide anymore."

He truly is the Devil. His nickname proves it. Nobody knows his real name—with the exception of his son—but instead they all know him by 'Diablo'. It just fits.

"Ah, but there are always new ones, and they are better than any I have ever used before."

"So it's true, then," I press. "You have been fanning out of your comfort zone. France, is it?"

"Aw, that spoils all the fun! Who told you? Was it my son? I bet it was! A, C'est la vi. Oh, look you're friends are all here, too! What fun, what fun, what fun!"

I turned around swiftly to find that, indeed, all Four Horsemen were standing in the doorway. If I hadn't been in the current situation, I would have said that the looks on their faces at the psychopath in front of them were priceless. Now was not the time, however.

"What the hell happened to 'stay put'? Idiots!" I hissed at them. I turned back to Diablo. "Let them go, Diablo. Let them go, and I won't put up a fight."

He smiled and removed his sunglasses. "Anastasia, whatever are we going to do with you. We both know that you can't possibly win a fight against me, no matter my age. And if you did miraculously manage to defeat me—which you wouldn't—I have a little extra incentive for you to come peacefully."

He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers royally, and I turned to find the scariest thing I had seen in a long time.

Sniper lines danced their little red jigs all over the Four Horsemen. Hundreds of red dots all over four of the greatest magicians in the history of the world is enough to make anyone get into the Devil's black sports car. Especially if those people had fast went from being protect-ees to being... friends.

But one last though crossed through my brain.

"You're going to kill them anyway. That was your plan all along... you knew that I had been assigned to protect them. You knew that Black was looking for me, and you knew where both of us were all along. You just waited until we though we had escaped you forever to flounce right back in, all high and mighty."

He began to slowly clap his hands, smiling gleefully. "Well done, deary! Well done! Though, I must admit, it took me about a year to find _you_ again after you had escaped. I must say, that was rather genius, your plan. My son, however, was all too easy. It's funny that you managed better than he. Well, what can you do? Come on, we have places to go and people to see," he finished in a sing-song tone, beginning to step forwards.

"You didn't answer me. You're going to kill them anyways, right?"

He stopped in his tracks and seemed to ponder for a second. "I will... but only if you put up a fight. If you came with me and cooperated, then they won't die. But if not..."

He trailed off and I looked behind me. More lights were being added by the second to their clothing, their skin, their faces. All their expressions were set, like they knew what was going to happen. Oh, no. Not if I could help it.

"I'll go with you. I won't fight you, I won't object. Just don't kill them," I whispered with as much emotion lacing my words as I could manage.

I heard Jack shouting at me to stop, that he should just let everything play out, and I heard the others restraining him, but I tried to not pay attention to them and make my mind stay at this level of intense concentration for my 'game' with Diablo.

He put on a thoughtful face. "What's the _magic_ word?"

I squinted my eyes at him and glared as hard as I could. "_PLEASE,_" I said with a tone of force and finality that he looked a bit shocked behind his usual façade. He quickly recovered, though, and smirked that God-awful smirk that I had learned to hate with everything in me.

"There, that's better. No, get into the car, Anastasia, like a good girl, and we'll be on our way."

I glared at him some more as we took steps towards each other, his more sure and purposeful than mine. But I was working on something. In the very far depths of my mind, I focused hard on the kitchen table. My earlier message had long gone since I lost touch with it in my head. I thought as long and as hard as I could, putting all my energy into it.

When I was done, my head was spinning and the world was tilting on it's side. I felt someone catch me before I had braced myself for impact, which took me by surprise. I only realized who it was when his coffee-stained smile and gray eyes were the only things I could see.

He should have let me fall. Son of a bitch.

"Ta-ta, all," I heard him say.

I was aware that I was being lifted into The Devil's arms and slung over his shoulders, and I was aware that the Horsemen were shouting after me. I felt myself being throwing down into the back seat of the car, hitting my head on the opposite door before the open one was slammed shut. I felt the car speeding off at a swiftness I knew would have rivaled NASCAR, but the only thing I was really thinking about was my message on the kitchen table.

They had better listen to it.

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**Again, sorry to all y-all for not updating sooner. I would have... but things just get so hectic! I'm serious: all that time that I was gone, I was trying to get this chapter written. You have no idea how hard it was to write!**

**xxIrisxx**


	16. Chapter 15: Confusion

**Here it is: the next chapter! I hope you'll like this one, as it is the longest chapter that I have written for this story I promise that the the next ones won't be ****_as_**** long... :D**

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**Chapter 15: Confusion**

**(Jack's POV)**

A fight like that I would never be able to pull off. Maggie and Black? Sure, they could! They had been training like this for years; of course they were going to be good at it! I had fought lots of people in my time on the streets and when we were escaping from the FBI on numerous occasions, but I had never even thought that a fight could get that intense, especially between friends.

On the subject of Maggie and Black—_wait, when did I start calling her 'Maggie'?_—I wasn't even sure if 'friends' was the right term to use for them. They certainly seemed like more than that, but who was I to judge?

Eh, I could judge if I wanted to, and nobody was going to stop me. It made sense that they would like each other—they had been together for a long time, and then he had gone and found her again, even if it was "just to assign her to a mission". I hadn't known her then, so what chances did I have? None. None at all. But had that ever stopped me from trying before? I think not!

"You coming, Jack?"

Daniel's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Yeah, I'll be right behind you." Think of an excuse, idiot! "Just gonna grab a midnight snack."

The other three grunted and the door slammed shut as Black walked out. I only got up when I heard them start to tromp up the stairs like a heard of freakin' elephants. I leaned against the door frame of the kitchen and watched as Maggie pushed the door to the freezer shut with her foot, turned, and went to the island to put her weight against the marble top.

I glanced at her lips as she sipped from her glass, staring back at me the whole time.

I felt my throat go dry and I coughed to clear it. "So... you and Black, huh?"

She looked like she was about to spit. "Why does everybody think that?" She choked out. "First Dylan, now you!"

"Well, it's an obvious conclusion to draw from the way you two dance around each other!" I shot back.

"No, it's not," she said, taking in some more water. "He's had this cute little kindergarten crush on me since I was twelve, but I never, _ever _liked him back. I only use it against him; blackmailing him and stuff. It's also a great weakness for him when we're fighting." Ah, that sounded just like something Maggie would do. But I wasn't giving up easily. "Besides, why would you care?"

I didn't reply, so she nodded as if she understood and looked down at the water in her glass, twisting it around. How could she possibly understand? I had only been around her for a month, and everything she did was more exciting than the next. One minute she'd be snarky and childish, then the next she's dead serious. I can't take my eyes off her, and anything she does to put us before herself has me thinking that maybe she's not as cold-hearted as she pretends to be.

Maybe it was a rash decision, maybe it wasn't, but whatever it was, I did it anyway. I rested my hands on either side of the counter behind her and touched my bare feet to her own uncovered toes as I leaned against her body, still leaving a fair amount of air between us. She looked up, startled, into my eyes, and I suddenly realized just how much shorter she is than I. A good five inches, maybe. I never thought of her as all that short, and I never thought of myself as significantly tall, but I guess I hadn't paid that much attention.

"Jack..." she whispered in a voice as smooth as silk, not rough around the edges like she normally is. I would give anything to hear it again.

I lifted one had to gently pry her water glass from her warm fingers and I placed it on the counter beside her. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her way from the island, those same fingers coming up to grab onto my arms.

I leaned my head down towards her, noticing her eyes closing just as mine are doing the same. Then my lips touched hers, and it felt like I was suddenly lighter than air and I could float up into the clouds and still be as happy as I was at that moment. She started to kiss me back, and everything feels perfect, like this is exactly how it was meant to be. Her arms traced their way lightly up my arms and around my neck as I began to run my hands up and down her back, to which I felt her shiver slightly against it.

My lungs seemed to want to scream for air, but my head wanted to stay like this forever.

Lungs won over, and we both pulled away slowly at the same time. I don't know how long we both stood there, staring at each other, before her eyes seemed to darken a smidgen.

"I can't, Jack."

You know how before I had said that this may have been a rash decision? It was.

"Why not?" I was aware of how hurt I sounded only when the words slipped out of my mouth, and I silently cursed myself for sounding so... soft.

"Because I can't be attached to someone. I'm just not that sort of person." _Neither am I, but look at us now!_ "After this is all over, I have to leave. I don't know where I'll go or what I'll do, but I can't stay here. This is your life, and I can't be in it."

I hadn't even thought about that before. I hadn't even thought about what would happen would the mission was over—that is, if we succeeded. But obviously she hadn't thought about it either if she thought that it was going to be okay with any of us.

"No, no. You can't leave!" Now I just sounded desperate. "What about all of us? Don't do that to Dylan, or to Black." I stumbled over his name a little, even though I had been assured that there was nothing between him and Maggie. "Don't do that to me. You feel something, don't you? Look into my eyes and tell me you don't feel something. Nothing at all."

"I don't know what I feel, Jack. I like you, and I don't want to lose you, but I also don't want you to get hurt."

"If you leave, you're going to hurt me more than think you are."

_Shit, did I really just say that out loud?_

She shook her head after a minute, like she didn't know what to say. But that was ridiculous, thinking that Anastasia Shrike was at a loss for words. Wasn't it? "No, it won't." _Yes, it will!_ "Just forget all this. Forget it ever happened, forget I said anything. I can't stay here with you all. We'll finish this mission, and then I'll be gone. It'll be like I was never here. You'll all forget me, and that's the way it should be, okay?"

She untangled herself from my arms, and I was left with was the memory of her being there, me holding her close. And she expected me to forget all that? Forget her? Impossible.

"How could I ever forget you?" I whispered, only part of my hoping that she heard it.

888

I slept (or rather didn't sleep) downstairs, reliving the night over and over and over again. How could she expect me to forget it? Impossible.

I only went upstairs when the first rays of the sun bathed the rim of the windows in a brilliant golden light from behind the heavy drapes.

I slapped myself down on the bed, staring at the door. I lost track of time, but it could have been hours that I lay there like that, or it could have been minutes. But the next thing I knew was that Daniel was walking from his room, down the hallway and was knocking at my door. He opened to see me lying there, and I pretended to be asleep.

"Jack," he said. I groaned. "Henley texted." I cracked open my eyes a bit to see he was holding up his phone. "She says for all of us to come downstairs, that Dylan's going to be here in a minute."

We tromped downstairs together—well, they did, I was a bit more quiet—and saw that Maggie was sitting on the counter with an empty beer bottle next to her, phone in hand, and it was ringing. She looked concerned when she glanced up at us and back down at the phone, sliding her finger across the bar.

"Who be you?"

I couldn't hear what the other person said, but I could tell that she was non-to-happy to hear who they were or what they said. She was biting her lip and had gone to window to look out, so I guessed that she knew they were around here somewhere. Well, that probably wasn't good.

"Oh, I don't know about that. It sounds a little... dangerous..." Henley, Daniel and Merritt walked up behind her and I began to follow suit, but she turned and shooed us away from the windows and towards the center of the room. Yeah, definitely not good.

"Well, I would, but I'm afraid I can't find you. Nobody said anything about Hid-and-Seek … You show me yours, I'll show you mine." I held back a chuckle at her comment and her expression. She growled into the phone at whatever he had just said, then turned to us.

She pointed at the table, and we all saw that she had written in big, bold, all-caps letters; "STAY HERE".

We all looked back to where she had been standing, only to find that she was already at the front doors. No way in hell was I going to stay here when I had just heard her talk to somebody she obviously knew like _that_.

I heard her say something about somebody's comfort zone and France, but I couldn't quite make it out. I stepped out of the doors along with the other three to see the most irritating-looking man that I had ever seen.

He was a short character, though I could tell that he was pretty high-ranking in whatever he did by the way he carried himself and the way he spoke. His suit was nice, as were his watch and the gold band wrapped around his pinky finger. Too small to fit on any other finger, so obviously a lost love.

"Aw, that spoils all the fun!" His voice told me that he was more-or-less a psychopath, the way he seemed to say it all sing-songy and childlike. "Who told you? Was it my son? I bet it was! A, C'est la vi. Oh, look you're friends are all here, too! What fun, what fun, what fun!"

Maggie whipped her head around to see us all standing there, at a loss. She looked ready to kill.

"What the hell happened to 'stay put'? Idiots!" she hissed and turned back to Mr. Ego. "Let them go, Diablo. Let them go, and I won't put up a fight." Well, now I knew his name. What was that again about going with him?

Diablo, as I had learned his name to be, removed his sunglasses, looking smug. "Anastasia, whatever are we going to do with you. We both know that you can't possibly win a fight against me, no matter my age. And if you did miraculously manage to defeat me—which you wouldn't—I have a little extra incentive for you to come peacefully."

He snapped his fingers in a fashion that you might see a Flamenco dancer do, and I saw the bright red light bouncing off of our clothes before I could even think. I glared at this man, full knowing now who he was.

He was, in a manner of speaking, The Caste.

Anastasia had looked back at us yet again, and all I wanted to do when I saw her face was go to her and hold her in my arms, tell her that everything was going to be okay. Even if it wasn't.

"You're going to kill them anyway," she said, and I knew she meant it. "That was your plan all along... you knew that I had been assigned to protect them. You knew that Black was looking for me, and you knew where both of us were all along. You just waited until we though we had escaped you forever to flounce right back in, all high and mighty."

Diablo clapped his hands, slowly, calmly, shaking his head as if it were as simple as a job well done. "Well done, deary! Well done! Though, I must admit, it took me about a year to find _you _again after you had escaped. I must say, that was rather genius, your plan. My son, however, was all too easy."

Black was his son? _What?!_I had been right before. He _was _a psychopath if he had been on the lookout for his son as well, and especially when he sounded like he had some no-nonsense talking to do with him. Which most likely meant using The Band.

"It's funny," Diablo continued, "that you managed better than he. Well, what can you do? Come on, we have places to go and people to see." That sing-song, nonchalant voice of his was beginning to irritate me to no end.

"You didn't answer me. You're going to kill them anyways, right?" Maggie shot at him

He seemed to freeze, but I knew that he was just thinking. I could tell that, from behind me, Merritt was trying his best to read his mind. "I will... but only if you put up a fight. If you came with me and cooperated, then they won't die. But if not..."

Diablo trailed off and looked back at us. I could sense that more sniper lines were being put on us by the second, even if I couldn't see them. Maggie looked me straight in the eye, and I tried as hard as I might to communicate with her my single thought.

_Don't go, Maggie. Don't go with him, even if it means that he kill us._

"I'll go with you." No. "I won't fight you, I won't object." No. "Just don't kill them." No, no, no!

I shouted at her to stop, that this was a stupid idea, but she paid me no heed, instead concentrating on this 'game' she had going on with him. A battle of wits.

Diablo's face seemed as though it were permanently set int hat smug grin. "What's the _magic _word?"

No, Maggie! Don't say it! "_PLEASE._" Diablo looked shocked for a moment that she, the Shrike girl, would be begging to spare the life of another. But he reeled himself back in, back down into that mad-man's stance.

"There, that's better. Now, get into the car, Anastasia, like a good girl, and we'll be on our way."

The two walked towards each other with purpose and meaning, though I noticed that Maggie was not all in her game. She had her eyes squinted and her brows furrowed, as though she were trying with all her might to do... something. Then her eyes were back open, and she was tipsy-looking, spinning, falling. Diablo and I rushed for her at the same time, but he got there faster, holding her in his arms. It made me sick. I stopped, falling to my knees, watching as he picked up her small, unconscious form.

He said something, but I didn't hear it. I watched as he threw her into the car, banging her head on the opposite door and slamming it shut. I watched as he got into the passenger side and motioned for his driver to take him away. I watched as the car sped off, faster than I thought humanly possible to make a car go.

And she was gone.

Then all the rest of them were beside me, Henley on the ground next to me and wrapping her arms around me, Daniel staring at the brightening sky where the car had sped off into the distance, and Merritt was crouching next to me, a hand on my shoulder, eyes staring into mine. It only reminded me of her, but I had to keep strong. For our team, for Dylan... for Maggie.

"Kid. Kid!" It took me a second to realize Merritt was shouting in my face. "I know where they're taking her. Back up to their HQ in New York City, okay? But if we want to get there, we need two things: a plan, and Dylan."

"How do you know where they're taking her?" Daniel asked.

I saw Merritt glare at him. "Mentalist, remember?" He turned back to me, but stood up and let go of my shoulder. "Before she got dizzy and fell over like a sack of potatoes, Anastasia was leaving us a message. If I'm right, it's on the kitchen table."

Daniel and Merritt were running, Henley was helping me up, and then all of us were gathered around the cherry-wood table.

DO NOT FOLLOW ME. YOU WILL DIE. —A

All four of us looked one another blankly, and I knew were all think the exact same thing.

To use an earlier phrase: no way in hell.

* * *

**As always, please R&R! Thank to all the lovely people who did so for the last chapter! 3 to you all!**

**xxIrisxx**


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